On the Catwalk
by NariNari
Summary: Harry is left dazed and confused after seeing Draco Malfoy in a fashion show. He's now questioning his sexuality and feelings for Malfoy when he's assigned to protect him from a crazed fan. Worst of all, Malfoy seems to want nothing to do with him. DMHP.
1. Part One

**A/N:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**Oi!!!**: This is for YeiYai's birthday, a fic involving Draco and a zebra thong. Thanks to Seo-san for editing this. All mistakes are hers, lol.

**On the Catwalk**

**Chapter One**

Harry wasn't particularly sure how he ended up here, nor the point of him being here at all.

That wasn't entirely true. He knew how he got here—that was seen to by Hermione—but the _why_ was still a little fuzzy.

Why he agreed to come to this place was unfathomable. This place being a _fashion show_. Hermione had asked him a few weeks ago to attend the thing with her because Ron had flat out said no and 'Harry wouldn't treat his best friend like that, would he?'

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes at the thought, praying a stray camera got that shot. Why, why, oh, why, had Hermione asked him here? With all the lights and 'haute cotour' or whatever, and these insufferably vain and snobby people! It's not like he knew a thing about fashion; he'd still be wearing Dudley's hand-me-downs if Hermione had let him. He had absolutely no taste and doubted he'd get any pleasure from this at all. Though, it might be entertaining to watch these blokes strut around looking like complete twats.

Yes, this was an _all male _fashion show. And to add to that, Hermione had run off and the damned thing hadn't even started! She had better get her arse back here before it did or he'd...

Suddenly, the lights around Harry dimmed, and music began pumping through the room, causing Harry's whole body to vibrate. Looking to the stage, Harry could see the silhouette of the first model; he paused behind a white screen before strutting out onto the catwalk.

The man was wearing a pair of plaid trousers and a tight black v-neck shirt with some ratty old trainers. The model was pretty attractive—even Harry could admit that, being as straight as he was.

Which was _very_, by the way.

He continued watching with a sort of fascination that one only got from watching things they didn't quite understand, like aeroplanes and Richard Simmons. The models passed, the cameras flashed, people clapped, the song crooned about how sexy they were, and the outfits got wilder and wilder.

"Oh, I missed the beginning?" Hermione slid into the chair next to Harry, right at the edge of the runway. "Did he come out yet? I hope I didn't miss him. He only does one walk..."

"Who does?" Harry asked, barely taking his eyes off the black haired model that was passing them in a coat made of feathers.

"What do you mean 'who'? I mean...." She stopped mid sentence when another model appeared behind the white screen and the volume in the room rose at least two decibels. The model held his cool pose behind the screen for longer than the others before slowly stepping around to show himself.

Harry's jaw dropped, Hermione squealed next to him, the room applauded madly, cameras flashed and clicked—but Harry couldn't focus on any of that. The only thing Harry could see right now was Draco Malfoy, swaggering down the catwalk in nothing but a pair of zebra thong underwear. Harry couldn't help but think how insufficient the garment was at down-playing Malfoy's...assets.

Malfoy's gaze was focused ahead of him. Harry was certain the blond couldn't see him gaping, so he felt no shame in doing so. Malfoy stopped at the end of the runway, letting the photographers have their shot, showing off his perfect physique. Harry admired the way he stood, so erect, proud, confident, something Harry could never do, even after all he had done to be proud of. And his arse! Harry could honestly say he'd never seen a more perfect arse: so round, smooth, and milky. Not even on a woman.

His hair was styled in a way that Harry had never seen. It was longer in the front, short in the back and swept over one of his heavily kohl-lined eyes. He wore his trademark smirk, but this was quite more seductive than the condescending ones Harry had ever seen the blond give. It was kind of...nice. Suddenly, Malfoy spun back towards the way he came; he looked over his shoulder once at the many admirers, shook his tush once, and began the walk back. The room exploded with that, and as he made his way back his arm shot out over Harry, a piece of paper falling into the hero's lap.

Harry looked to his lap, then the end of the catwalk where Malfoy was heading back. He threw Harry a sideways wink and disappeared.

"Harry!" The brunet whipped his head around to face Hermione who was looking at him with a wide eyed expression.

"What?" Harry asked thickly. He didn't know why, but he was finding it quite hard to swallow.

Hermione dropped her voice so no one could hear, which Harry found entirely unnecessary, seeing as the room was so loud. "Well, first I think Draco Malfoy just hit on you and secondly, I'm 99% certain you wanted him to!"

"What do you mean, Hermione? I did not," Harry tried to deny feebly. Hermione didn't answer him verbally. She simply looked from his face and down to his lap, which housed a very noticeable erection. "Merlin!" Harry tried to cover himself as quickly as possible, wishing to God that the security would have let them bring their wands in so he could cast a concealing charm.

He hadn't even noticed he'd been aroused before, probably being so caught up in shock that Malfoy was there and that he was...bloody fucking gorgeous. But now that Hermione mentioned it, he was acutely aware of how turned on he was.

"Well, what does the note say?" Hermione prodded, poking Harry in the side.

Harry unfurled the paper, instantly recognising Malfoy's elegant penmanship.

_See something you like, Potter?_

Harry blushed deeply and shoved the note in his pocket hastily, deciding to incinerate the note as soon as he got to his flat. "I'm leaving," he mumbled to Hermione.

"Wait, Harry, it's nothing to be ashamed about! Anyone would...you know, after seeing Malfoy like that. Hell, why do you think I came to this thing in the first place?" Hermione asked, resting her hand on Harry's arm.

"Hermione," Harry began with a sigh. "I'm not gay, I just, you know, haven't had sex in awhile is all, and Malfoy's just so pretty and feminine, and really who wouldn't be attracted to the snotty git? It's not my fault I haven't had sex in so long and Malfoy is just offering himself to an entire room full of people he doesn't even know...I think, and anyway-"

"Harry!" Hermione interrupted, eyeing the way his blush had deepened during his tirade. "It's okay, I know you're not gay. But still, it'd be okay if you were."

"I'm not gay!" Harry shouted, yanking his arm from Hermione's tightened grip. He spun on one heel and headed for the exit, ignoring Hermione's protests behind him. He checked his wand and coat and stormed out of the building, fuming all the way to the apparition point.

"Potter."

Harry froze in mid step. He knew who was behind him, but he didn't dare turn to face him now. "Malfoy."

"Where are you going in such a rush?" Malfoy drawled, and Harry heard him step forward.

"Home. Not that it's any of your business," Harry snapped.

"Oh? So soon?" Harry could hear him smirking, and knew some sarcastic and more than likely humiliating comment was coming next. "Want me to come with?"

Slightly surprised, but not put off, Harry threw over his shoulder, "I'd rather rot."

Malfoy laughed at that, a silver little bell that hung in the air. "You just may. Tell me: wouldn't it be so much better to be able to touch me like you want, rather than just wanking to unfilled fantasies?"

Harry stiffened and turned quickly to face the blond and realised he was a lot closer than he had thought. He'd bent so his face was level to Harry's, his stance casual, hands shoved in pockets. "Listen here, Malfoy," Harry ground out. "I am not gay, and I will never be gay; especially for you."

"And I'm really a unicorn. Wanna see my horn? It's quite impressive," Malfoy leered back.

"Sod off, Malfoy!" Harry barked, ignoring the way those grey eyes twinkled, and turned back to the apparition point. Suddenly, he was being dragged backwards so fast he didn't have time to grab his wand. Not that he was sure he'd _really _pull it on Malfoy; the stupid twat was for the most part harmless.

Malfoy pulled him into an alley way next to the building they had just exited and slammed him against the wall. Harry let out 'oof' in pain, and tried to push back, only to have Malfoy's body press against his, and his arms pinned to the wall. Malfoy shoved his thigh in-between Harry's, feeling the growing hardness there and breathed into the brunet's ear, "Why, Harry, I haven't even done anything yet."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut tight and turned his face away from the blondes. "S-stop."

"I don't think you want me to," Malfoy answered, and licked the shell of Harry's ear. Harry tried pushing him off feebly, but now the thigh between his was moving up in down in a most delicious manner and he couldn't help but groan. "See," Malfoy whispered. "You want this."

"No!" Harry shouted, and then Malfoy's lips where on his, silencing any further protest. Harry kept his mouth shut tight to Malfoy's prodding tongue, refusing to give in and let Malfoy have his way. But then Malfoy bit down on his bottom lip and Harry yelped in pain. Malfoy's tongue entered quickly, exploring Harry's mouth expertly.

Harry could honestly say he'd never been kissed like this. Malfoy definitely knew what he was doing, and he tasted so good—like spice, berries and something else Harry couldn't place. His tongue tentatively rose up to meet Malfoy's in this new dance, when Harry abruptly remembered who this was and what they were doing.

"Fuck!" Malfoy pulled away after Harry bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood. Malfoy licked his lips and glared at the smirking Harry. The glare hardened, and for a moment Harry was actually afraid Malfoy might attack him; instead, the blond spit in his face.

Harry hissed, turning his head away.

Malfoy suddenly pulled both of Harry's hands over his head against the wall, and held them there with one hand. "You're not being very nice, are you, Potter?" he asked, his free hand now travelling south.

"I swear to Merlin, Malfoy, if you don't let me go this instant, I will scream, and I will scream like a girl. And when someone comes running, I will kill you." Harry glared. "Slowly."

Malfoy smirked. "Oh, you'll be screaming all right. My name." And then his hand was gripping Harry's member, pulling it free from the confines of Harry's trousers.

"Fuck!" Harry hissed, throwing his head back against the wall, rather painfully. Malfoy's hand worked up and down slowly, gripping the head and twisting, then back down again with just the right amount of pressure. He'd get to the base and let a finger travel down to tickle Harry's balls before sliding back up again.

Harry felt his legs become weak, pleasure coursing through his body and coiling in his groin. He gasped when Malfoy's thumb grazed his slit, wiping the pearl that had formed on the head and using it for lube. Malfoy continued to work his hand in ways Harry would have never imagined doing, all the while smirking down at the saviour. Harry tried to forget who was doing this to him, tried to imagine some hot woman, Ginny even, when it came down to it. But somehow, Malfoy was able to make his presence known even without saying anything at all.

Abruptly, Harry felt himself tighten, knowing he was near. He tried to push Malfoy away, or at least give him some warning.

"Say it," Malfoy whispered. "Say it out loud." He tightened his hand around the base of Harry's cock, causing the brunet immense torture.

"Say what?" Harry gritted out.

"My name," Malfoy answered. "Tell me that you're coming and say my name."

"N-No." Malfoy squeezed harder, eliciting a groan from Harry. "Mal-"

"Draco," Malfoy demanded, moving down to lavish some attention on Harry's tormented balls.

Harry tried to glare at the blond, but knew it wasn't working properly and that he looked ridiculous. He couldn't help but moan when Malfoy began pulling and tugging on him rather roughly. He felt the coil tense once more and he knew he couldn't hold it much more.

"Say it," Malfoy whispered once more, his breath caressing Harry's ear.

He couldn't take it anymore. He felt as though his legs were going to give out from underneath him and that if he held it in for one more second, he'd die. "Draco, I'm coming!" Harry shouted and Malfoy pulled hard on his dick, almost as if he were milking Harry. Harry couldn't help thrusting into Malfoy's palm as he rode out his orgasm, his body weak with pleasure, but still wanting more of that touch.

Malfoy let Harry's hands go and they fell limply to his side. He took a moment to catch his breath and felt Malfoy cast a cleaning charm on him and, more than likely, his own hand, before shoving Harry back into his trousers and begin doing them up.

Harry slapped his hand away with a glare. "I can do it myself," he snapped.

Malfoy only chuckled. He smirked at the panting war hero before turning to walk away. He paused at the end of the alley, and said over his shoulder, "If you ever want real release, you know where to find me." With that, he walked away, leaving Harry dishevelled in the alleyway.

It took Harry a moment to regain himself, before he shouted after the blond, "I'm not gay!" But it was too late, and Harry knew it. Malfoy was long gone. Harry sighed and pushed himself off the wall and made his way to the apparition point.

How the hell did this happen?

That night Harry didn't get much sleep. In fact, when he finally fell asleep, his mind was clouded with Malfoy. Seemingly innocent things that would turn grossly sexual: Malfoy eating ice cream, or having a photo shoot, or he and Malfoy play a Seekers game, that turned into a new type of Mile High Club sex, and the thing that all these dreams had in common was that in each and every one of them, Malfoy was always wearing a zebra striped thong.

Finally, he gave up on sleep and began to work on a few case reports he'd been putting off. It was around four in the morning that he heard a tapping on his window. He didn't recognise the owl, and for such a late hour Harry was quite suspicious. He cast several spells to detect dark magic, love potions, or any other undesirable thing he didn't want to deal with at the moment.

Finding that none of these were the case, he sighed and opened the window, letting the owl (that he now realised was a falcon) in. It held out its leg imperiously, shaking it a bit when Harry didn't untie the note quickly enough. "Alright already," Harry murmured to it. The falcon snatched its leg back as soon as it was possible and flew out the window, not bothering to wait for a reply.

"Nasty bugger," Harry said to himself and began opening the letter. Inside he found a single 4x5 piece of paper that said one word, '_Enjoy._' Suddenly the word shifted and a photograph developed before his eyes.

Harry flung the picture across the room when he realised what it was, and watched as it fluttered harmlessly to the floor. He slammed his window shut and cast a strong ward against any foreign birds and stormed back to his desk. Violently he began scrawling across the report forms, not even caring that his normally illegible chicken scratch had turned into one large line slightly resembling English.

He let out a sigh of frustration when his quill snapped in half, before throwing it down and leaving his desk. He couldn't deal with this now. He began pacing the room, running a hand through his unruly locks trying to calm himself.

"Okay, this is no big deal," he said to himself. "It really can't be helped. I just haven't had sex in so long, that's all. I'm not gay, Malfoy's just feminine. Yea. If I have sex with a woman, then I won't find him attractive anymore. Yea, that's what I'll do." He stopped short, realisation freezing him. "Tonight, I'll go out and find some woman to sleep with, is all. Brilliant!" He smiled and looked at the clock; he still had three hours until he had to be up, might as well try to sleep.

He went back to bed, forgetting about the picture that still lay, face up, in his flat. A picture of Draco Malfoy, winking at an unseen Harry in nothing but a zebra thong.

That morning when Harry entered the office he shared with Ron he was surprisingly chipper, and a little tired.

"Hey, Ron," he said, sitting down at his desk and throwing his bag down next to him.

"Harry!" Ron said in the tone that meant he was going to tell Harry something he thought was really, really important, but normally was ridiculous. "Did you know the only reason Hermione wanted to go to that thing last night was because _Malfoy _was in it?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I don't want to talk about Malfoy."

"Why? Hermione said something happened between you two, but she wouldn't tell me what. The slimy git didn't try anything did he?" Ron's face started turning red with anger.

"No," Harry answered tersely, hoping the redhead got the hint. Unfortunately, Ron never caught onto these things quickly and he continued talking.

"Why anyone in their right mind would want to see Malfoy at all, is beyond me. And especially in a zebra stripped th-"

"Enough!" Harry barked, not even caring how surprised his best friend looked. "I said I don't want to talk about Malfoy, and that means I don't want to talk about Malfoy!"

Ron looked sheepish and muttered, "Sorry."

Feeling bad, Harry added. "The mental image is just too much, you know? Good thing you didn't have to see it too."

Ron smiled. "Yea, good thing."

They worked in relative silence for the rest of the day, this being their day to fill out paper work. They were quite jittery by days end.

"Hey, you want to go out somewhere?" Harry asked, remembering his earlier resolve to get laid that night.

"Nah, I can't. Hermione and I have plans tonight. Sorry, mate," Ron apologised, patting Harry's shoulder.

"It's all right," Harry answered, stepping into the atrium. "But, hey, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yea, tomorrow then," Ron said and they parted ways.

Harry went home and flopped into bed.

"Forget it, even if I went out I wouldn't taken anyone home anyway," he reasoned. Truthfully, the reason Harry hadn't had sex or a relationship in so long was because he found that anyone he thought attractive couldn't see past his scar. One woman went as far as to ask him to re-enact the final battle. Needless to say, he never saw her again.

Now that Harry thought about it there was only ever one person that didn't give a shit that he was Harry Potter. Sure, others had hated him, but that wasn't because of who he really was, it was because they were taught to. But only one person had truly disliked him beyond the name. And now that person wanted to get into his pants.

Harry groaned. This really was turning out to be way too complicated and revealing. Perhaps he should just go find a random woman to fuck, and then eventually marry. It'd be a hell of a lot easier.

But Harry never did take the easy way out. And now that he was thinking about it, he had to wonder. If Malfoy had always hated him so much, why did he do those things in the alleyway? Was it some sort of twisted power thing? Probably, he reasoned. There was no way Malfoy actually _liked _him. Perhaps that he was attractive, yes.

Harry wasn't completely oblivious; he knew he was at least semi-attractive. But other than that, what reason would Malfoy have to want him? Just to say he conquered Harry Potter? Because Malfoy was shallow enough to want him for his looks alone? Was it revenge? Those were all more likely than the notion of Malfoy having feelings for him other than malevolence.

Harry sat up; this was turning out to be a bit too depressing. Deciding to make himself something to eat, to take his mind of things, he got out of bed and headed for the kitchen. It was then Harry noticed the picture still lying on his living room floor. Figuring he'd better get rid of it now, before Ron or Hermione found it, he picked up the photograph and his breath caught in his throat. Somehow seeing the image again made last night more real. The memory of Malfoy's touch made his body burn, and long for it again. He swiftly turned back towards his bedroom, photo in hand.

Harry sat down across from Hermione at the pub where they decided to meet for lunch, after two weeks of not seeing one another. Since the fashion show fiasco to be exact.

"Harry, how have you been?" Hermione asked.

"Fine," he replied. "And you?"

"Oh, I've been good. Busy with school and everything," she answered, waving a hand about. She was currently studying to become a certified historian and proficient with ancient runes. She was hoping to become a professor at Hogwarts, and eventually Headmistress. That way she could free the house elves.

"I figured as much. Things are pretty slow at the office. Crime rate has plunged significantly."

"That's good to hear. I don't like it when they send you and Ron on overly dangerous missions. There really is no need to send you two into hostage situations where you know both the victim and suspect. Not to mention when it's in a secluded area, and you're sent in alone."

"'Mione, that was one time!"

"Well, I still don't like it!" She replied, taking a sip of tea. She seemed to want to say something more, so Harry waited, adding sugar to his tea and stirring longer than necessary. "So, have you heard from Malfoy lately?"

Harry stopped, genuinely surprised she would bring up the topic. "No, I haven't. And why should I?"

"No reason," she answered quickly, too quickly. "I just meant that he seemed like he was messing with you. I just wanted to know if he' done anything since then."

The memory of what happened after the show resurfaced and Harry's face began to burn. "No, he hasn't, alright? I don't want to talk about Malfoy. Ever. Okay?"

"But, you can't not talk about him forever, I mean-"

"Hermione! Drop it!"

"Lower your voice," she hissed, leaning in when others began to stare. "Harry, you can't deny that you aren't attracted to him! It's written all over your face, and I'm willing to bet he is too. Why do you think youv'e always been able to set each other off when no one else could?"

"Hermione, I am not gay and I am _not_ attracted to Draco Malfoy," Harry growled.

"The sooner you stop lying to yourself, the better."

"You're mad!" Harry barked. "Raving mad!" He laughed a bit when she sat back in offense. "Hermione, like I said, I am not gay, I am _not _attracted to Draco Malfoy, and I don't want to talk about him," he hissed over the table, eyes burning with furious intensity. Hermione nodded slowly and Harry sat back. He let out a sigh and turned away from his friend. "Even if I was," he whispered. "He's just messing with me. He just wants to humiliate me for being so foolish." He stood abruptly, not bothering to say good-bye to Hermione and left.

Hermione could only watch with a pained heart as he left.

"You all right, mate? You have been looking a bit down lately," Ron asked one morning at work.

"What? Have I? I just haven't been getting much sleep lately, is all. Don't worry about it," Harry replied, looking down at his unfinished paperwork, trying to brush off Ron's worry.

In truth, Harry was afraid to look at Ron that moment. He was afraid of what his face might have portrayed to Ron, afraid that with one glance his best friend would figure it all out and ditch him.

It was true that Harry hadn't been getting much sleep at night, but Ron didn't need to know why that was. He never was going to, either.

Harry felt quite pathetic about the whole thing. It was ludicrous, anyway. He was afraid to go to sleep, because he knew when he did he'd just wake up in the middle of the night and have to clean himself up. It was all because of Malfoy. Ever since that night, it seemed the blond was constantly on his mind; he was continuously trying to figure out why Malfoy did what he did and why he had just let it happen. If he had really wanted Malfoy to stop, he could have a stopped him. And why did he want to do it again?

So did this make him gay? That he supposed he could live with, but being attracted to Draco Malfoy? He wasn't so sure.

Because he wasn't so sure it was just lust. When he really thought about it, which was rarely, he noticed things about Malfoy that he generally liked. He liked that Malfoy was intelligent, and that he knew what he was talking about. He liked the way Malfoy came back after the war, refusing to hide away and wither off. He liked that he was still arrogant, even after that, too. He also liked the way Malfoy was fiercely loyal to his family, but still had a sense of right and wrong, like when he couldn't kill Dumbledore. He liked that he never gave up, always striving for the best, or to jump whatever hurdle was put in front of him. He liked that he didn't let people take advantage of him, and snubbed those who tried to put him down, making them look like fools. He liked the way he didn't give a shit that Harry was Harry Potter, but still treated Harry like an equal, even if he did act like he was superior most of the time.

And to be completely honest, he liked the way Malfoy looked in a zebra thong.

How long had he felt this way? Since that night? Maybe he had just realised it that night. Maybe he had felt like this for a long time.

"Get this, Harry," Ron said, startling Harry from his thoughts. He couldn't believe he had started thinking so deeply in the middle of work, especially with Ron right across from him. "Apparently Malfoy's got another show tonight and Hermione wants you to go with her."

Harry's face hardened. "Why couldn't she ask me herself?"

"Dunno," Ron answered, while taking a sip of tea. "She said something about me seeing you anyway. Oh, and she said to tell you, 'Come on, Harry, it was a month ago, it won't be so bad.' She talking about something that happened with Malfoy?"

"Don't worry about it," Harry ground out. "And tell her I said, 'Fuck no.'" The last thing he needed was to see Malfoy right now. Not when he was so confused.

When he entered his flat that night, he noticed Malfoy's falcon flying towards the window. Sighing, he took down the wards he had placed so long ago and allowed the falcon to land on the sill. It tapped viciously at the glass and Harry rushed forward to let it in, fearing it would break the window.

He opened the window and the flacon stuck its leg out. Harry looked at it warily. The envelope was the same as last time, so it was probably another picture. He untied it and the falcon took off. He was about to open the envelope, against his better judgement, when his Floo flared up.

"Harry, thank Merlin you're here," Shacklebolt said, his bald head poking through the flames.

"What is it?" Harry asked, setting the envelope aside.

"There's a situation at Malfoy Manor. You're needed there immediately."

"What's happened?" Panic seized Harry's chest, and he tried to brush it off as simple altruism, rather than Draco alone.

"Draco's received a death threat, apparently. I was actually surprised that they called us, but it seems like this person is getting close to him and Mrs. Malfoy is concerned," Shacklebolt explained.

Harry kneeled in front of the fire place, cloak already on. "Wait, why do you need me though?"

"Mrs. Malfoy has specifically asked for you, actually."

"Right," Harry answered, standing. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Good, I await the report" Shacklebolt answered, and then retreated.

Harry headed out his door, wondering what kind of death threat this had to be for Mrs. Malfoy to be worried. He knew for a fact that Draco had received death threats before, having thrown the bastards in jail when they drunkenly and unwittingly told Harry of their 'good deeds.'

Really, it made him sick. He knew that the Malfoy's weren't the best people, but even they deserved the chance to redeem themselves. Well, maybe not Lucius so much. But Narcissa and Draco, definitely.

He steeled himself for the feeling of being sucked through a vacuum and closed his eyes. He landed, on his feet, thankfully, just outside the wards of the Manor. The gates opened, automatically, and he walked up the long path to the door.

The door opened and Harry was ushered in by a house elf who said, "Mistress Narcissa be waiting for you in the drawing room, Harry Potter, sir."

"Thank you," Harry told the elf, following it to said room. Upon entering, Harry found only Narcissa, which lead to the question of why the victim was not present.

"Mr. Potter," Narcissa greeted, waving an elegant hand for him to sit.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Harry nodded. "You're looking well."

"Charming as always," she replied. "Now, to get to more serious matters." A tray of tea appeared before them and she took a cup. "Draco seems to have some sort of neurotic admirer. They don't know whether to kiss him or kill him. Personally, I'd like them to do neither."

"Well," Harry began. "How did this person contact him? Owl, street, meeting place?"

"They sent him an owl. It was very disturbing," she explained. "Normally, I wouldn't call you for such a trivial thing. But later, when I went out into the garden, I found the heads severed from the sculptures, and in the grass had been burned, 'I'm coming for you, Draco.' Mr. Potter, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that, with the exception of yourself, no one has ever gotten across these wards without our letting them."

"I see," Harry answered. "May I see the garden? And Draco?"

"Of course," Narcissa replied, standing. She led him out to the gardens where he found it just as she said. "You won't need to examine this for long, will you? I'd like to fix it as soon as possible."

"No, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry replied moving towards the head of what seemed to be two men raping a woman. Harry decided not to ask why there was a statue of sexual harassment in their garden, but at least he knew where Draco got it from. He began checking for spells, running through a basic magical signature and coming back with nothing.

Moving further out, he scanned the entire area for traces of magic. The spell came back only with the wards surrounding the manor and basic gardening spells. Confused, Harry moved to inspect a statue more closely. There he found distinct marks, as if the statue's heads had been beaten off, instead of blasted.

This person hadn't used magic to sever these heads. He made a quick note of it and moved to the grass where the threat was made. He ran a spell over it and it too came back empty. Kneeling down, he took a whiff of the ground. Gasoline and fire.

They weren't dealing with any ordinary wizard. This person had knowledge of the Muggle world, and was smart enough to not use magic. Harry made another note and began to stand.

"You called for me, Mother?" Harry heard Draco ask. He didn't turn around right away, unsure whether he could face the blond after all that he had been feeling.

"Yes, Mr. Potter needs to speak with you about the case," Narcissa answered, and with that Harry steeled himself and turned.

Draco's hair was much different now. It was longer, the strands brushing the shoulders, but cut short around the crown of his head, the hair there fluffed up to give him more volume. His bangs swept over his forehead, drawing attention to his stormy grey eyes, which were make-up free today. Harry couldn't help but whole heartily approve of the new cut.

"What for?" Draco asked calmly.

"About the threat," Narcissa replied, stepping around Draco and heading for the house. "Once you're finished Mr. Potter, I'd like to speak to you once more."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry answered, nodding.

They watched in silence as Narcissa entered the house, before Harry threw up a muffling charm and turned to Draco. He was opening his mouth when Draco spoke.

"There is no case."

Harry faltered, swallowed once and continued. "What?"

"I said there is no case," Draco answered. "I've received death threats before, it's nothing new and nothing I can't handle."

"Malfoy, look, your mother is worried, so would you at least let me go through the necessary steps in order to appease her?" Harry asked, rubbing his temple. He could already feel a headache coming on.

"Proceed," Draco answered, sitting down at nearby table.

Harry followed and sat as well, pulling out a Quick Notes Quill. "Approximately when did you receive this letter?"

"About three or four days ago."

"And you didn't think to report it then?"

"There was nothing to report, Potter," Draco spat.

Harry sighed. "Right, no big deal. And what did this letter say?"

"I'm not quite sure that's any of your business, Potter," Draco answered, standing. "Listen. The person who sent it is obviously insane. They're in love with me to the point that they can't see anything else. It's one of those, if-I-can't-have-you-no-one-else-can situations. And this," Draco continued with a wave at the garden, "is just a breech in security that has been rectified. So, if you'll excuse me, I have a show to prepare for."

"Malfoy!" Harry called, walking after the man. "Wait just a damned minute! You can't seriously believe that this is just something to brush off! You said yourself that the person is obviously insane. How can you walk around like nothing's wrong with a target on your head!?"

Draco stopped abruptly, spinning around and bending down so he was almost nose to nose with Harry. "I've always had a target on my head, Potter. What do you care, anyway? I'm a big boy; I can take care of myself."

Harry faltered for a moment, opening and closing his mouth. Draco looked disgusted and turned to go in the house. Harry watched him for a moment, trying to regain his thoughts before rushing after him. When he caught sight of Draco, Narcissa was stepping in front of him.

"Mother," Draco said, a bit surprised.

"Draco," she replied. "I've arranged to have Mr. Potter protect you until this case is resolved. Please don't kill him in the process."

"Mother," Draco started.

"Draco," she warned calmly, then turned to Harry. "Mr. Shacklebolt has the details, if you'd like to contact him. I thank you in advance."

"No problem, Mrs. Malfoy, I'm sure I and the rest of the department will get to the bottom of this right away."

"I'm sure," Narcissa answered. She threw a look at Draco then said. "Well, have a good night Mr. Potter. Have a good show, Draco." She left them alone and Draco sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling before shooting Harry a sideways glance.

"I don't need _your _protection," he hissed, before turning and heading up the stairs.

Why was Draco acting like this so suddenly? Harry wondered. A month ago he was all whispered hushes, gentle touches, and seductive smirks. And now, it was as if nothing had happened at all. He hadn't spoken to Harry so bluntly or spitefully since Hogwarts. So, what had changed? He must've really been toying with Harry that night.

"I'd suggest you start following me now if you plan on doing your job at all. I won't wait for you, Potter, so you'd better keep up."

Harry forced a smirk and followed him up the stairs. "I'd like to see you try and lose me."

Draco glared ahead and replied, "Don't worry, you'll see that quite soon."

**A/N:** Well, I didn't want this to be this long, but all well. This will be a two-shoot with the ending posted hopefully next week. I also didn't expect this story to go this way at all. Anyway, happy birthday YeiYai, don't worry there's more to come!


	2. Part Two

**A/N:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**OI!!!:** You guys should never listen to my lies about updates...

**On The Catwalk**

**Part Two**

Harry let his head hit the wall behind him for what felt like the 80th time, but was in reality only about five times. He sighed for the umpteenth time and asked himself for the eighth time how he got here. Once again, he was trapped at a fucking fashion show.

Just how many times was he going to be forced to attend these damned things, anyway? He heard Draco shout for him from inside his dressing room and pushed off the wall. He opened the door and found the blond lying on a chaise lounge reading a book, in the same clothes he had arrived in. Two women that Harry was told were stylists were standing in the middle of the room looking pain-staked.

"Yes?" Harry asked.

"Can you get rid of them?" Draco asked, turning a page.

"But, Mr. Malfoy, really, we need to-"

"I told you not to worry about it, so please, don't," Draco answered, not bothering to look at the woman.

Harry rolled his eyes and said, "I'm sorry, ladies, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave." The women looked at each other in panic and left, whispering in a language Harry didn't understand. He shut the door and turned to Draco. "Um, don't you kind of need them?"

"No," Draco said simply.

"You don't seem easy to work with," Harry muttered. "Can I go back outside, now?"

"Go," he answered. Harry rolled his eyes once more and turned to leave, but Draco's voice stopped him. "You know, Potter, I'm actually quite easy to get along with. But, you'd never know that unless you tried." Harry turned his head and found Draco still reading, almost as if he had never said anything at all.

Outside, Harry found himself trying to control his erratic breathing and suddenly quickly beating heart. What did Draco mean? Hadn't Harry tried before? Well, no actually, he hadn't. But still, had Draco ever done anything to warrant him trying? He'd been nothing but a prick to him since they were eleven.

Harry's mind flashed to the time when they were eleven, the first and second time they had met. Harry understood now that Draco had only wanted him to like him; he had only acted the way he always had to make friends. Fucked up as it was, it was still Draco's effort.

Okay, well, he didn't try all that hard. Even with the new sporadic 'Let's be friends/ have sex' thing, Draco was still arrogant and controlling about it. Perhaps that was because he knew Harry wouldn't make the moves? Because, really, when had he ever initiated anything? People always came to him; hell the Dark Lord _offered _himself.

Harry rolled his eyes. Why was he even thinking about this? Either way, Draco was still being a dick about the whole thing.

He set a ward around the door that would briefly stop anyone from entering or leaving and went to check the premises for the second time. He scanned the room, paying particular attention the faces of the patrons, committing them to memory in case he needed them later. He cast a detective spell for any magic besides the ward he had set and what was put on by the show. Nothing new, he noted. Heading towards the catwalk that jutted into the middle of the room, he kept his head down, silently glad he was in plain clothes for this job (Draco's clothes that had been altered to fit Harry). The last thing he needed was someone recognising him and having a fucking heart attack. He scanned the faces of the most privileged when he spotted a familiar one.

"Harry?" Hermione stood, nearing her friend. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on duty," Harry answered simply.

"Oh? In plain clothes? This must be serious. Did something happen?" Hermione asked, her eyes worried.

Harry looked passed her and saw Ginny sitting awkwardly in the chair next to the one Hermione had just vacated. "I thought you two weren't speaking," Harry said instead.

"We are now; Harry, you know we have been for awhile," Hermione said, biting her lip. "Please, Harry, is something happening that I should be aware of?"

"No, nothing at all," Harry answered, beginning to walk back towards the dressing rooms. "See you later, Hermione."

Once back outside of Draco's dressing room, Harry took the ward down. The door swung open immediately and Draco stepped out, towering over Harry. "What the fuck was that?"

"A Chinese duck," Harry answered.

"Don't fuck with me, Potter, I'm in no mood."

"Fucking with you is the _last _thing on my mind, Malfoy," Harry answered with a smirk.

Draco's eyes narrowed; he grabbed Harry by his shirt collar and pulled him into the dressing room. He shut the door and slammed Harry into it so hard his head bounced. Draco leaned forward, ignoring the wand pressed into his neck. He said nothing, letting his glare speak for him.

Harry glowered back defiantly, removing his wand and leaning into Draco so their foreheads touched. Harry could feel Draco's breath on his lips and, he had to say, the feeling wasn't entirely unpleasant. The blond released Harry's shirt and brought his hand up to grasp Harry's chin.

Harry knew what was coming once he felt those cold fingers on his chin. He tried to pull away, but he was trapped. Draco's lips pressed into his, hard, his body crushing Harry against the door. He knew it would be bad to hit the blond—the git would probably bruise or start bleeding, and he did have a show to do. Instead, Harry reached up and grabbed a fistful of hair.

Draco's stare hardened, as if he knew what Harry was about to do and was warning him otherwise. Harry smirked into the kiss and tightened his grip. Suddenly Harry felt a knee between his thighs, pressing upwards a bit harder than he would have liked. He read the challenge in Draco's eyes, and the tongue that swiped at his lips.

To that, Harry only licked back, teasingly, before quickly closing his mouth again. Draco bit at Harry's lip, pulling it forward and letting it snap back. He snaked his free hand under Harry's shirt, his fingers searching for the tan skin hidden beneath them until they danced down to cup that firm arse. His fingers teased their way between the cheeks and Harry immediately clenched his muscles.

The blond moved so his mouth was next to Harry's ear. "What are you fighting so hard for? I already know you want it."

"Like a hole in the head, Malfoy," Harry replied, pulling the blonds head back some to show he meant business.

Draco laughed, letting go of the Auror's chin, his hand resting over groin. "That's not what this says." He gave a little squeeze.

"And that's not what I say." Harry yanked at the blond hair between his fingers; Draco brought this arm up and knocked Harry's away.

"You'd do well to remember the position you're in," he growled.

"And you'd do well to remember that I'm not someone you can push around. I can and will fight back when necessary, Malfoy. And I play to win. But, I'm sure you know a hell of a lot more about playing than I do."

Draco released Harry and stood up straight. "And I'm sure you know a hell of a lot about winning." He spat the word, and pushed Harry out of the way. "Never lock me in again." He swung open the door and strode out, Harry following behind him slowly.

He was too tired to try and decipher what Draco meant, because he knew there was some obscure alter meaning to what he had said. There always was. Instead, he watched as the hair and make-up people worked their magic on the blond. Not that they did anything much, Harry noted. Mostly styled his hair and applied some eyeliner. He supposed that's how it was when you were so unearthly beautiful. He watched as the other models got much of the same treatment, and after catching sight of his reflection in the mirror, couldn't help but feel a bit inadequate.

Shaking his head to clear away the thought, he followed Draco to wardrobe and insisted, much to Draco's chagrin, that he check over the outfit before it went anywhere near Draco. They dressed him in a pair of form fitting dark wash jeans, that had a chain hanging from the belt loops, and a black and white plaid long sleeved shirt, that was left unbuttoned until the third rung. As he sat to lace up a pair of black boots, the stylist threw a cross necklace over Draco's head, then stood back to look at him objectively.

She pulled Draco out of the chair and made him do a three sixty, before grabbing a black jacket with multiple buttons, zippers and a fur lined hood from the rack of clothes. Draco slipped it on and asked if she wanted him to wear it zipped up or with the hood up. She looked at him and shook her head no. Harry took in the completed piece and couldn't help but think the bad boy image really suited Draco.

Harry watched as the stylist put the finishing touches on Draco. He nodded to the stylist and checked Draco over once again for anything funny. Finding nothing out of place, he led the way to the line of models waiting to make their walk. He watched Draco get in line and quickly left to monitor the crowd while he made his walk.

If someone were going to attack Draco now, they had a very small window to do so. That made Harry's job easier in the sense of catching them and stopping such an attack, but their environment was not optimal for safety, which made it that much harder. Harry worked his way into the crowd, making his way towards the runway. He spotted a shady looking photographer edging close to the walk. Harry moved quickly, glancing at the model on the walk, to determine how long he had; he needed to get that man away from the walk as quickly as possible. He pushed through the photographers and spoke lowly to the man.

"What did you say to me?" The man asked, turning around to do so. "Oi, you're Harry Potter, what are you doing here? Look everyone, Harry Potter is here!" Harry could have punched the fucker. He was able to patrol the room earlier by sticking to the outside of the room and keeping his head down. Now this asshole had announced to a room of journalists and photographers (fashion or not) that he was amongst them. The cameras that previously were focused on the stage were now pointed at him.

He glared and said, "I need you all to back up, now, please."

"Harry, what do you like about the new line?" Someone shouted.

"Are we in danger?"

"What are you wearing?"

"Are you in the market for protection service now? What happened to being a star Auror?"

"Has someone threatened the facility?"

"Are we going to be arrested?"

"Who _was _Albus Dumbledore?"

"Enough!" Harry shouted, glancing at the walk and seeing that Draco was up next. He briefly felt sorry for the models, who were not being photographed at the moment, due to his interruption. But, at least it was only the press who had noticed his presence and not the entire room. "I need you all to back up, _**now**_!"

"Hey, this is the-" The man's response was lost when the crowd roared up and suddenly the photographers were surging forward, trying to crush Harry to death between the runway and their bodies. Harry pushed back fiercely, knowing that drawing his wand on the crowd would get him, and possibly Draco, in trouble. Not that he cared if Draco lost work, really, more like he didn't want him mad at him.

Harry found that there was no way he'd be able to get the press off him physically; he was going to have to escape another way. Looking for an exit, he ducked underneath the barricade, and ended up standing next to the walk. Feeling eyes on him, he looked up to see Draco staring down at him slightly amused.

Draco continued to pose for the camera, his gaze focused elsewhere now. Harry searched quickly for the man who he'd argued with earlier. He spotted him ducking underneath the barricade, just as Draco turned to make his way back. Harry moved quickly, drawing his wand, when he was shoved from the side, knocking the photographer into the crowd.

It was like watching dominos fall: the man fell back, hitting a woman, who stumbled backwards, and was semi-caught by a man, who in turn hit a woman, who fell back into a mass of wires. Suddenly, the lights flickered and the room was dark. Harry cast a quick _lumos_, just as a spell shot through the air, near the walk.

"Malfoy!" Harry shouted, hoping the blond got the message to move and move quickly. Harry threw a stunner between the hex and the walk, hoping it would collide. It hit, and the room burst into red light.

Suddenly, it became all too clear to Harry. He'd been setup! The photographer, the lights—it was all too perfect. He felt himself go dizzy with rage for a moment.

On the walk Draco stood, quite still, staring at the red light before him. Then, words began to appear in the air, much like Harry had seen Tom do in the Chamber of Secrets.

"_Draco," _the message started writing in the bright red lettering. _"Soon, Draco, soon you'll be mine, and so will this." _All too quickly the words burst into flames and Draco was covered in a red liquid that looked way too much like blood for Harry's liking.

They crowd roared and people began surging towards the door. Harry turned back to where the photographer was standing a moment ago and found the space empty. "Shit!" He pushed through the crowd, spotting the man's head in the distance. "Move! Official Auror business!" He yelled at the crowd. He pushed through to the front of the crowd just in time to see the man turn the corner.

He dashed after him, dodging the frantic crowd expertly. Thankfully, the man was stupid enough to try and head for a more secluded exit, probably hoping that Harry headed for the main one. 'Too bad for this arse,' Harry thought as he steadied his wand at the man's back and cast a stupefy. The man froze in mid stride and then fell ungracefully to the floor. Harry slowed next to the body. He cast a body bind, un-did the stupefy, and sent a patronus to the ministry for clearance.

A crowd of photographers had gathered round and were now snapping pictures of Harry and his capture while shouting questions left and right. "Please, everyone, stop with the photographs, this is official business and as such, I cannot comment or allow you to take photos."

Suddenly, Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared in the crowd, his bald head towering over most of the people. "You heard him," Kingsley said. "No photos. If any of this gets leaked, the parties responsible will be in serious trouble." The photos ceased, but the questions still continued. Kingsley finally made his way to stand next to Harry. "What have we got?"

"This is the man who initiated the fiasco," Harry answered, gesturing to the fallen man. "But, well, now is not the best time to discuss this. But I don't think we've caught our guy."

"What do you mean? Potter, you can't just arrest people who-" Kingsley's face began to contort, but Harry stopped him.

"No, we have for now, I'll explain later."

"Right," he seemed to calm a bit, then looked around. "Potter, where is Malfoy?"

"Shit!" Harry turned and pushed back through the crowd. What if the man had been a decoy to distract Harry during the real attack? What if it was too late and Draco had been abducted or worse? All because he had chased instead of protected.

He turned the corner and almost knocked someone down. Not bothering to say sorry, he continued into the showroom. He found Draco still standing on the walk, only Hermione and Ginny were standing on it as well. Draco was still covered in the fake blood, and his expression was hard as he spoke to Hermione, who it seemed was interrogating him.

"Potter!" Draco barked when he caught sight of him. Though Draco was pissed, Harry couldn't help feeling relieved that he was all right.

"Malfoy, what are you doing standing there in that stuff? What if it's poisonous?" Harry asked, hopping onto the walk and ignoring Hermione and Ginny. He pulled out a vial that was normally used to preserve memories and returned it to normal size, before scooping some of the fake blood in. He then cast a scrouigfy on Draco and grabbed his arm. "Come on, we need to get you, and this, checked out."

Draco pulled his arm from Harry's grasp and glared down at him, "We are going to have to have a chat about your Auror abilities later." He then turned and walked back to the dressing areas, where Harry assumed he was going to get his wand.

"Harry," Hermione began, her tone stern. "I don't think that you should-"

"Sorry, Hermione, I have to go," Harry said, effectively cutting off whatever comment she was going to make. He really couldn't deal with her right now. Besides, he still needed to get Draco to St. Mungo's.

He found Draco just heading into his dressing room and followed in. Draco shed the coat and threw it on a chair before opening a drawer and pulling out his wand. "Shouldn't you keep that in a more secure place?" Harry asked.

"I charm it so only I can open the drawer," Draco answered offhandedly. He shut the drawer, and turned to leave. "I'll have them send me my things, so let's just get going, shall we?" He left without waiting for an answer and Harry followed closely behind him.

They exited into the cool night air, Draco leading the way to the apparition point. He stepped in and Harry grabbed him arm. "What is it, Potter?"

"Like hell I'm going to let you apparate yourself. I'll do it," Harry answered.

"What, are you afraid to apparate by yourself, Potter? Charming, but not the best quality an Auror should have. In fact, I think you're perhaps the worst Auror I've ever met."

"Malfoy," He started, but Draco continued on.

"Fine, fine, I'll just do it myself."

"Malfoy, for Merlin's sake would you just-" The rest of Harry's sentence was cut off by the crack of apparition and a lurching in his stomach.

Draco landed gracefully in the middle of the waiting room of St. Mungo's, while Harry stumbled and almost fell—had it not been for Draco's long arms stopping him. "Bastard," Harry muttered.

"All right, we're here now," Draco said expectantly.

"Come on, then," Harry said and lead the way to the special ward reserved for the ministry for cases such as this. Draco followed Harry down the white hallway into an even whiter waiting room, their footsteps echoing off the linoleum floors and resounding off the walls. Thankfully, the waiting room was empty and Draco was seen right away.

A medi-witch greeted Harry, batting her eyelashes and giggling a bit too much for the situation. "Mr. Potter, what brings you in today? I hope you're not hurt." She laid her hand on his arm and practically attached herself to his side.

"No," Draco said loudly, "Actually, _I'm _the one in need of medical attention, so if you'd be so kind as to stop molesting Potter and get someone who's actually got into Healing school, it'd be much appreciated." The girl stopped swinging her annoyingly long, fake blonde locks around and stared slack jawed at Draco. "Oh, dear, I see you're going to be no help at all. Do they pay you to act this dumb or is it something you were just born with?"

"You..you..." she began. Draco rolled his eyes and headed for the back where he assumed he could find someone to make sure he wasn't dying. Harry made a soft apology to the receptionist Draco had just verbally abused and hurried after him when her voice stopped them both. "You're Draco Malfoy!"

Draco turned slowly, his eyes calculating her intentions. "Very good; now, let's see if you can remember how to call Healers."

"I-I'm such a fan!" she squealed, rushing behind her desk to grab some sort of paper and a quill. "Will you sign this for me?" She handed Draco a photo and the quill, which he took it with an eye roll. Harry had to admit, Draco seemed to be good dealing with his fans. Suddenly the blonds face darkened.

"Where did you get this photograph?" he asked coldly.

"Oh, this man sold it me awhile back. He said they were really rare. I paid ten gallons for it!" She said, her eyelashes fluttering like a dying butterflies.

"Yes. There is a reason this photo is so rare—it's not supposed to have been distributed. Listen," Draco paused to peer at her name tag. "Maddie, would you mind if I took this photo and gave you another?"

Maddie's gaze levelled. "Well, I did pay ten galleons for it..."

"Of course, which is why I was going to give a different picture and two seats on the walk to my next show," Draco answered.

"Oh! Mr. Malfoy, you don't have to do all that!" Maddie blushed and looked at him through dark, clumpy lashes.

"Oh, but I want to," Draco answered. He conjured a business card and handed it to her. "Here, call that number tomorrow and ask for Todd."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Malfoy!"

"No problem, but Maddie," Draco said shoving the photo in his jacket pocket before Harry could see it.

"Yes?"

"The Healer?"

"Oh! Oh, yes, right away." She ran behind her desk and paged a Healer.

"What was that about?" Harry asked when Draco turned to face him again.

"Don't worry about it, Potter." He seemed bitter when he said it, so Harry decided not to pursue it. The Healer came from the back and asked which one of them needed tending to.

"He does," Harry answered, jerking his head towards Draco. "He got some kind of substance on him. I've got a bit of it here. We just need to make sure there are no adverse effects."

"I see. Come this way, please," the Healer said, leading them back into and examining room. "Lie down, please." Draco did as he was told and lay back on the table. The Healer cast a diagnostic spell and found everything was normal. "Let me see that vial, please." She let her wand run over it and nodded. "Just as I thought; Mr. Malfoy, you're perfectly fine, that mixture is just corn starch and food colouring."

"Food colouring?" Draco asked.

"It's something the Muggles use in cooking to make it change colours," Harry explained. "Thank you so much for your time."

"No problem, dearie," the Healer answered, then left.

Draco sat up and levelled his gaze at Harry. "What?" Harry finally said after a moment.

"Did they really let you become an Auror with reflexes like that?"

"Shut up, Malfoy, I don't want to hear it. What I want to know is why the hell these fashion shows are using electricity."

"It's magically enhanced electricity. It's more efficient, not that it matters. Did you catch the person who cast the spell?"

"I believe so. Which reminds me: you're coming with me to the ministry."

"Like hell!" Draco said gracefully sliding from the table. "I hate the ministry."

"Too bad, I need you to identify the perp," Harry answered. "So stop complaining and let's _go_."

"If you think you can-"

"Malfoy, I've had enough of your shit for one night, so can you please just shut up and go along for one damned second before I kill myself!?"

"Well, when you put it in such favourable terms..."

Harry let out a scream of frustration and swung open the door. "I'm going to the ministry; you can stay here and be attacked by a lot of kneazles for all I care!"

Why the fuck did he like that git again? Even a little, though he was sure it was more than a little. He was selfish, stubborn, arrogant and just a big giant prick. Not to mention a bastard. Why did he have to be so attractive and smart and witty and charming and so very _Malfoy_. Always doing the unexpected and never caring what others thought.

Argh! Why was he thinking about this now? He had to go to the ministry and interrogate his suspect. Right, to the ministry, but Draco...was right next to him.

"Change your mind, did you?" Harry asked.

"Don't be stupid Potter; I've decided I want to look this person in the face, is all."

Harry didn't respond to that, only kept walking until they reached the lobby. "We're Floo-ing," Harry informed him.

"I had assumed," Draco answered. Stepping into a fire place, he grabbed a handful of powder and shouted, "Ministry of Magic!" then disappeared in a burst of green flames. Harry, satisfied that Malfoy had actually gone to the Ministry, followed his lead.

Draco was waiting, rather impatiently, in the atrium. Harry ignored the blond and walked past him to the lifts. He entered, Draco following behind, and pushed the button.

"So what did this guy look like?" Draco asked suddenly.

"He was taller than me, but shorter than you. I'd say around 183cm, brown hair, slightly unshaven, scruffy looking. You'll see him in a moment," Harry said, exiting the lift as it dinged to a stop.

"Potter," Kingsley greeted. "Just in time; this guy's not saying anything but his name." He handed Harry a file.

"Samuel Weber," Harry said and turned to Draco. "Know any one by that name?"

"Not that I can recall," Draco answered, peeking over Harry's shoulder to look at the mug shot. The man's eyes were slightly panicked, looking this way and that, his hands trembled and he looked as if he were going to be sick. "He doesn't look familiar either, and trust me, I remember a face."

"Right, well, you stay here, I'm going to talk to him." Harry made his way into the interrogation room and sat down opposite Weber, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi. Harry didn't say anything for a few moments, only shuffled through some papers, not looking at Weber.

Finally, he looked up, his gaze nonchalant and said, "Coffee or tea?"

Weber looked stunned, and then stuttered out, "T-t-tea."

Harry stood and walked over to a table, which held a coffee and tea maker, his back towards Weber. "So, Sam, what seems to be the problem?"

"I-I-I don't know what you m-m-mean," Weber responded. "All I k-k-know is that you chased me out of the show and b-b-brought me h-h-here."

"Are you afraid Sam?" Harry asked, turning slowly to face the man.

"A-a-afraid-d-d?" Weber repeated.

"Yes. Are you afraid of what's going to happen to you, or rather, what I'm going to do to you?" Harry picked up the Styrofoam cup and walked back over to the table. He sat the sup down in front Weber, and took his seat.

"Erm, y-y-y-y-yes?" Weber answered.

"Good. I think you should tell me what happened back there," Harry answered.

"I t-t-told you, you chased-"

"Sam!" Harry slammed a hand down on the table, causing the tea to jump and spill. "Tell me about Draco Malfoy."

"Well," Sam began, telling his story while Harry listened patiently. When he was done, Harry nodded and stood. He left the room and that found Draco and Kingsley had been watching the entire exchange.

"He's lying," Harry said, tossing the file to Kingsley. "He's not the person behind this; he's been hired."

"Should we give him Vertiserum?" Kingsley asked.

"No, he doesn't know who hired him, you can tell, but I will tell you this."

"What?"

"They're smart; perhaps too smart. Sooner or later they're going to trip up."

"Right," Kingsley said. "We'll hold him until you catch the real culprit. He may prove to be useful."

Harry nodded and motioned to Draco that they were leaving. Surprisingly, he didn't say anything, only followed. Once they were in the lift Harry asked if there was anyone Draco could think of that would do this.

"No, I don't really know anyone who's capable of master minding something like this. Cunning? Yes. Sheer stupidity? No. Well, not besides you anyhow," he answered, smiling.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said, rather playfully, and stepped inside the atrium.

Draco walked over to the fire places and stepped inside. "Are you coming back to the manor?"

"Yes. I just want to make sure that you go," Harry said.

Draco rolled his eyes and threw in the powder, Harry following after him. When Harry landed in the manor's fireplace, he saw Draco heading up the stairs, presumably to his room. Harry followed and they were stopped by his mother on the stairs.

"How did the show go, dear?"

"Fine, Mother, thank you," Draco answered. "I'm a bit tired though, so I think I'll just be heading to bed now."

"Of course. Mr. Potter, you don't mind sharing a bed with Draco, do you? All the other rooms are being renovated at the moment, and I would feel terrible to have you sleep on a transfigured bed or some such thing."

"Renovated?" Draco said. "Since when?"

"Since two days ago, Draco, I told you that."

Harry felt his stomach drop. Share a bed with Draco? With Naricssa looking at him so expectantly, he didn't have any other choice then to give his assent. "That's fine. If it's fine with Draco, that is."

"Of course it is, isn't it Draco?" She didn't wait for his approval as she continued on. "Well, you boys get some rest; I've still got some things to take care of. Good night."

"Good night, Mother," Draco grumbled, trudging up the stairs.

"Good night, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said, following Draco's lead.

Harry entered Draco's room for the second time that day. It still amazed him that it was so normal, with the exception of a few extravagant pieces of furniture, such as the overly large bed. It was like the master suite of an ordinary house, just larger. It was decorated in soft greys and black, and had a modern feel that managed not seem out of place in the old manor.

Harry eyed a chaise lounge in the corner and headed to it; it was large enough for him to sleep on. He turned to Draco, who was rummaging through a few dresser drawers, pulling out sleep clothes. "Malfoy, I'll just sleep on this for the night."

The blond didn't turn as he spoke, "Like hell. I'll sleep there. Here," he threw some clothes at Harry over his shoulder. He caught them and looked them over. "You can sleep in those. I'm going to shower first, then you can have it when I'm done or just wait until morning," he informed Harry, heading into the connecting bathroom. "But," he said, pausing in the doorway and looking at Harry over his shoulder. "If I find you asleep on that chaise lounge, there will be hell to pay." With that, he shut the door behind him.

Harry rolled his eyes at the closed door and began to undress. What could Draco really do about him sleeping on the chaise lounge anyway? There was no way he was going to sleep in Draco's bed, surrounded by his scent. He wouldn't be able to control himself...the thought of Draco in bed, by himself, with someone else, asleep, dreaming...Harry shook his head to clear the thoughts. He wasn't even in the bed and he was already having trouble. No, chaise lounge it was. Besides, he was on duty; he shouldn't be sleeping on the job anyway. He would just choose to ignore the small detail of him being in Malfoy Manor, and therefore nothing should be able to get inside the wards after being reinforced anyway.

He sighed and placed his own wards on all the windows and doors, before heading back over to the chaise lounge. He'd just rest a minute, that's all. Just rest his tired eyes...

When Harry awoke, the room was pitch black and he couldn't see three centimetres in front of his face. He sat up quickly and realised he was no longer on the chaise lounge, and instead on the bed. Instinctively, he reached for his glasses on the bed side table, and was slightly surprised to find them there, along with his wand.

He cast a tempus charm and found it was a bit past two in the morning. At least he hadn't been asleep for that long, he reasoned. Casting a soft lumos, he threw off the covers and began to climb out of bed when a voice stopped him.

"Potter, you had better be going to the bathroom."

Harry pointed his wand in the direction of the voice and found Malfoy lying on the chaise lounge, albeit a bit awkwardly.

"Malfoy," Harry said.

"Who the hell else do you think it is? Voldemort?" the blond asked and Harry could see his eyes were closed.

"Go to sleep, Malfoy," Harry answered, then added. "In _your _bed."

"Don't tell me what to do, Potter. What did you get up for anyways?"

"I shouldn't be sleeping on the job," Harry murmured and Draco snorted.

"You know damned well that nothing can get in here. Just go back to sleep, Potter; if I'm dead in the morning, you can kill me, okay?"

"Malfoy, would you stop being so difficult and just listen to me and get in bed!" Harry shouted, exasperated.

"Now, that sounds like an invitation," Draco answered. Harry instantly realised his mistake in wording and quickly stumbled to correct himself.

"I want you to _go to sleep _in your bed!" Draco was now walking across the room to where Harry was sitting up in the large bed.

"I'll make you a deal," Draco said leaning down so Harry could clearly see his face. It was then that he realised the blond was also shirtless. "I'll go to sleep, in my bed, on one condition."

Harry already knew what was coming, he really did, but he heard himself asking anyway, "What?"

"You stay in it."

He sighed and began to protest, feebly, "Malfoy, I really shouldn't be sleeping on the job, I've got to be alert at all times, and-"

Draco cut him off, "And what better way to protect me if I'm right next to you?"

Harry could see this was going nowhere and his shoulders sagged in defeat. "Fine," he answered.

Draco smirked at this and began pushing Harry over. "Well, move over then."

"Couldn't you just get in on the other side of the bed?" Harry asked shifting over, after extinguishing the lumos.

"No, I like this side of the bed," Draco answered, climbing in.

"Yea, well, so do I!" Harry answered, rolling away, setting his wand on the other bedside table along with his glasses.

"Then, we can share it," Draco said, suddenly grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him closer, putting their bodies flush together.

The Auror made a sound of protest, trying to pull away a bit. "No! Your skins all cold!"

Even through the blurry darkness, Harry could see the seriousness in Draco's eyes as he spoke, "Then warm me up."

Harry's breath caught and he couldn't answer. Eventually, he fell asleep, Draco's arms wrapped around him, trying to think of anything but that.

When Harry awoke for the second time, it was morning and he was still attached to Draco. He quickly pulled away, almost immediately regretting it with the loss of heat. He peered up at Draco from his position on the pillows.

Try as he might, he just couldn't figure the blond out. Last night had only served to convince Harry that Draco had some kind of mental disorder, because what else could account for Draco's strange actions? The blond obviously suffered from split personalities or some other such thing, and personally Harry would appreciate it if he stayed on his meds.

Harry peered more closely at the sleeping face, squinting through the blurriness. Unable to stop himself, he tentatively reached up and traced those full lips with his finger, the touch so light he could barely feel it himself. Suddenly, his hand was seized by the wrist and Draco's eyes opened.

The blond said nothing, only looked down at Harry as if sizing him up. They stayed that way for a long moment, neither of them speaking. Slowly, Draco moved his hand so he and Harry's fingers were intertwined. Draco watched Harry's face his reaction, and found only confusion. He looked from their hands to Draco and back to their hands.

Slowly, Harry began leaning forward, his gaze still questioning, but for a different reason now. Draco didn't move; he watched as Harry's face became increasingly close to his, with an expression that he hoped Harry was too blind to see.

Harry could feel Draco's breath on his lips; he was so close and yet hesitant to take that final plunge. What if this was all a joke to Draco? What if he was pushed away and laughed at? He could stand the humiliation, he supposed, but the heart ache was another matter entirely.

And then, he felt Draco give his hand a light squeeze, as if telling him to go on. He continued forward and just as their lips brushed there was a knock on the door.

Harry jumped back as if he'd been burned. Eyes wide with panic, he frantically rolled away to grab his glasses.

"Draco, Mr. Potter, are you decent?" Naricssa's voice said through the door.

"Just come in, Mother," Draco answered, irritated.

The door opened and she quietly took in the scene, Harry blushing, and Draco sitting sullenly with his arms crossed. "I just wanted to let you know, Mr. Potter, that an owl has arrived for you; here is the letter."

"Oh!" Harry fumbled to get out of bed, and rushed over to where she was standing in the middle of the room. "Thank you," he told her.

"My pleasure," she answered and turned to leave. She stopped in the doorway and gave Draco a look and simply said, "Draco."

He rolled his eyes, uncrossed his arms and answered, "Yes, Mother."

She thanked him and left.

Harry read the owl quickly, and re-read it to make sure he knew what he was seeing. "I have to go to the Ministry, so get up."

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"Weber seems to be having a hard time remembering anything. They think he's been hit with a memory charm. I've got to go see what I can salvage of him," Harry informed him, throwing on his trousers and shirt from the day before and then his robes. He looked up to see Draco still lying in bed. "What are you doing? You've got to come with me."

Draco's gaze stayed fixed on something across the room as he replied. "I'm not feeling well; I think I'll just stay here."

"What do you mean, not feeling well? Perhaps the Healer missed something," Harry said, beginning to panic. It was never a good thing when a person was harmed under the surveillance of an Auror. "Okay, I'll have a Healer come and see you and in the mean time I'll send someone else over to watch over you."

"Potter, all that really isn't necessary," Draco told him, but Harry was beyond listening.

"Put a shirt on, will you? Can I adjust the room temperature from here or does a house elf have to do it? Merlin, and it's so bright in here..." Harry went to the windows and began throwing the curtain shut, plunging the room into almost absolute darkness.

"POTTER!" Harry turned to see Draco standing in the middle of the room, his arms crossed over his chest. "Leave it."

"But, Malfoy, I-"

"Don't you understand, Potter? No, of course you don't. You never know when to stop and, unfortunately, you never know when to start either," Draco said bitterly.

"Malfoy, I don't understand what you're getting at," Harry said levelly.

"Didn't I just say you never understand?" Draco laughed. "And here you are telling me that you don't! Potter, I have a question for you and even someone as thick as you won't be able to misconstrue my meaning." Harry glared at the remark but didn't stop him. "Just what is it that's stopping you? Just what is it about me that you hate so much? Or is this just some kind of game to keep you occupied while you protect me?"

Harry froze, and for a moment, he thought his heart had stopped beating. Did Draco understand what he was asking? It seemed like Draco thought their roles were reversed. Where did he get off asking Harry what he was doing? It should be the other way around! Draco, who was molesting him one minute and wanting nothing to do with him the next! A game! Like Harry could ever play a game like this and Draco should know it! What was stopping him? Draco, that's was what was stopping him. Draco and his inability to voice his true intentions or even make Harry feel an inkling of sincerity in any of his words or actions. Not that there had been many of the former anyway, but still.

What did he hate about Draco? He hated the way he was able to make Harry feel like the lowest scum in the pond, he hated the way he treated people he thought below him, he hated how he never had to worry about simple things, he hated how he never worried about _anything_, from love to world hunger, he hated the way he was so nonchalant about _everything_, except for 'serious' matters like what shoes would look best with his trousers, he hated how he treated the people he worked with and the people that tried to help him. And he was sure, given enough time, he could write a book about all the little things he hated about Draco Malfoy, and it would be a best-seller too, complete with pictures, diagrams, and examples. And Harry knew that if he were asked what he _liked _about Draco the list would be sorely shorter in comparison, possibly no longer than a simple paragraph.

And what Harry hated most about Draco Malfoy was that despite of all of this, of all his reason to hate Draco and his few not to...he still _didn't_. He hated that Draco made him feel the exact opposite of how he should rightly feel, and he hated how that made him hate himself on a completely different level.

Harry stared into Draco's eyes, watching the storm brew in those grey irises and answered, "I don't know what you mean, Malfoy."

Draco's face didn't change as he spoke. "Ding ding, Potter, congratulations, you've officially made my life the seventh circle of Hell."

Harry strode silently towards the door and spoke quietly over his shoulder, "I thought I'd return the favour." He opened the door, ignoring Draco as the other spun around to face him, seeming ready to burst with speech. "Someone will be here shortly." With that he left, leaving Draco standing furiously in the middle of the room.

After sending people to tend to Draco, he entered the holding cell, which was a flurry of movement.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, looking around and approaching Kingsley.

"This charm he was hit with, he was hit with it _last night_," Kingsley's normally calm visage was contorted in anger. "Under our supervision!"

"How could this have happened?" Harry asked, peering around the corner to see Weber sitting idly in a plastic chair in the interrogation room.

"That's what I'd like to know!" Kingsley barked, making more than a few people jump. "Harry, go see what you can salvage outta him. I'll deal with these WORTHLESS BUNCH OF SCUM THAT LIKE TO CALL THEMSLEVES AURORS!"

Harry winced and felt pity for those who were in charge last night, and entered the room to speak with Weber once more.

"Ey, you're Harry Potter!" Weber said upon his entrance. "Wow, I don't know what I did, but it'd have to be somethin' bad if Harry Potter's gonna interrogate me!"

"Yes, Weber, it was bad. Now, what is the last thing you remember?" Harry asked, sitting down.

"I just told those arses all this, why do I gotta tell it again?" Weber complained.

"I don't give a shit if you just told it to your granmum, I asked you to tell me, didn't I?" Harry answered.

"Oh, Potter's got a bit of a tongue, does he? I like that," Weber said, giving a suggestive wink. "Alrigh, alrigh, I'll tell ya, Harry, seeming as you're beggin' for it."

"Please do."

"Righ, well, last thing I remember I was showing up to the venue last night and then, everything's white, ya know, can't remember a damned thing. Next thing I know, I'm thrown in here with you lot."

"What had you done before that?" Harry asked.

"Nothin' I don't normally do, although, it's strange, I do remember one thing that seems out of place."

"And what's that?"

"I went into a Muggle store and bought something weird...I don't know what it was for or what you do with it, but I bought it. I can't remember what I did with it now, but I think I gave it to someone."

Harry's ear perked at this. He leaned away from the table a bit, feigning nonchalance and said, "And what did you buy?"

"Oh, what was it...um...oh, yea, food colouring."

Harry let his chair hit the ground and he stood. "Alright, Weber, someone will be in to deal with you shortly."

"Harry?" Kingsely strode forth. "We were able to uncover part of the magical signature on whoever hit him with the charm." The man held up his wand, showing the signature to Harry.

"But that's..." Suddenly, Harry remembered something. Something so insignificant, that it wasn't worth remembering. Something from about a month ago, and then it all made sense to Harry: the notes, the wards, the warnings, Weber and now this. "Kingsley, I have to go!"

"Harry, wait! Did you solve it!?"

"I have to go!" Harry yelled and ran up the stairs two at a time, nearly knocking down several others in his haste. He made it to the atrium in record time and stole a fireplace from an elderly man, shouting "Sorry!" before his destination and whooshing away.

"Harry?"

"I know it was you," Harry said stepping out of the fireplace and into the living room. "I just don't know why."

Hermione looked startled, before sitting down on the couch and glaring at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb with me, Hermione. Now tell me why you and Zabini did it, or I'll take you in and you can tell the Wizengamot all about it."

She let her head fall back on the couch. "Damn, you know about him, too? What gave me away?"

"The food colouring," Harry answered, not allowing himself to let his guard down for the moment. This was Hermione, but this Hermione may not be the same one he knew. This Hermione was a mastermind behind a potential plot to kill a man, a man that Harry would rather not see dead.

"Damn," she laughed. "And here I thought you wouldn't know what that was."

"Yes, well, I do. Now, what I would like to know is _why_."

"Well, it was all Mrs. Malfoy's idea, really," Hermione answered.

"_Mrs. Malfoy?_" Harry asked in disbelief. "Why the hell would she want to off, Draco? Oh, God, I left him there with some newbie Auror! There is no way they'd have a chance against her! And Draco won't fight her! I have to go, Hermione, but don't try and leave, I'll be back for you!" Harry yelled, rushing back towards the fireplace.

"No! Harry she doesn't want to kill him!" Hermione screeched before he could get 'Malfoy Manor' out.

"What do you mean!?"

"She doesn't want to kill him! Are you stupid!? Get back in here, and I'll explain!"

"Hermione, you've got five seconds to tell me why the fuck I shouldn't stun you right now."

"Well, when you put it like that!"

"Hermione!"

"Sorry, Harry, you're not going to like this," Hermione began.

"I already don't!"

"Right, but you're really going to hate this. You see, no one is trying to kill Draco. Mrs. Malfoy simply noticed something that I had noticed as well. She approached me about it and I agreed to help her, for our common benefit. Blaise was only dragged into this after Mrs. Malfoy made him, really."

"And what is this common benefit?" Harry asked dangerously.

"That's the part you're going to hate, Harry," Hermione said hesitantly.

"Oh, I can already tell."

"Right, well, basically the point of the plan was to make you and Draco spend as much time together as possible to realise that you're in love with each other," she said very quickly.

"God dammit, Hermione!" Harry shouted, storming back into the living room and flinging the Floo powder into the fire place. "You're telling me that you committed several serious crimes, including _fraud_ just so you could meddle in my love life!?"

"Erm, well, when you say it like that, it just sounds really bad," Hermione answered.

"That's because it is really bad, you stupid fucking cow!"

"Harry!" Hermione gasped.

"Oh, shut it, Hermione! Do you know what you could have done!? Do you know what the ministry can do to you if they find out about this!?" Harry sighed and pinched the bridge off his nose. "I'll talk to you about this later. Right now I have to go deal with Mrs. Malfoy and Draco."

"Harry, I am sorry," Hermione said as he stepped back into the fireplace for the second time.

"Yea, I bet you are," he answered before disappearing.

When Harry stepped into the Manor from the fireplace, a house elf was standing in front of it looking startled. "Oh, good, just who I needed to see," Harry said to it.

"What can Ninkle do for you, Mr. Harry Potter, sir?" The elf asked in a particularly squeaky voice.

"Can you find Mistress Narcissa and ask if she'll meet with me? I need to speak with her. I'll be in Draco's room, so just find me there," Harry told it, walking towards the stairwell.

"Mistress Narcissa is being out right now, but Ninkle will ask her when she arrives home," the elf informed him.

"Thanks," Harry said, and the elf went back to its original task of cleaning the fire place. Harry took the stairs slowly, unsure of how to face Draco after what he'd learned and their earlier encounter. He wasn't going to tell him what Hermione, his mother and Zabini had done just yet. He'd let Mrs. Malfoy have that option.

He was at the top of the stairs when he heard a shout and a crash, then felt the air around him crackle with magic. It was coming from Draco's room.

Draco was lying in bed, watching the Auror Potter had sent over to look after him as the Healer checked him over thoroughly. That Auror seemed a little off to Draco. He paced a little too quickly and was a bit too uppity for what the situation called, and not only that, he seemed too eager to get this Healer out of the room.

Finally, the Healer left and the Auror seemed to ooze relief. Draco watched him with half lidded eyes of disinterest. Suddenly he spoke.

"You know, you've always taken everything from me," he said, and for the life of Draco he couldn't remember what the hell his name was.

"I'm sorry?" Draco said, genuinely surprised at the comment. "What did you say?"

"You heard me Draco. I said you've always taken everything from me! The glory, the prestige, I was always being over looked because of you. You, who was Snape's favourite, you, who had the highest marks next to Granger, you, who was the only one to ever stand up to Potter, you, who had the perfect loving mother and father, you, who had all the girl's attentions, but that wasn't enough for you, was it? You had to take him, too, didn't you?"

"The fuck?" Draco asked getting up off the bed, quickly realising this was going south. "What the fuck are you on about? And who the fuck are you?" But even as Draco asked he could see tan skin emerging from underneath the pale face of the 'Auror', just as black hair sprouted through from dirty blond. "Blaise?" Draco asked in disbelief.

"Yes, it's fucking me," Zabini answered, his eyes fading into their original brown-green from blue. "Who the fuck else would it be?"

"Well, I was honestly thinking it was that Auror guy, but apparently not," Draco answered.

"Yes, apparently not," Zabini repeated, stepping forward.

"What the hell are you doing in my house, pretending to be an Auror and spouting all that shit, anyway?" Draco asked haughtily.

Zabini chuckled. "And even in the face of death you still pretend to be brave. I'm going to kill you, Draco. I'm going to kill you for all you've made me suffer, through all these years!" Draco opened his mouth to speak, but Zabini cut him off. "And you know what the best part of all this is, Draco? I can't go to jail for it. Do you know why? Don't answer, I'll tell you. It's because the only one that knows I'm here is your own mother."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked. "Explain yourself."

"Don't fucking tell me what to do!" Zabini yelled. "I'll tell you in my own damned time. Yes, I'll tell you why. Draco, those notes you've been getting? Granger wrote them. The destruction in the garden? Me. That incident at the show? Granger. How that Weber fuck-wit can't remember anything? The both of us. Why are we doing this? Because your mother asked us to. More like forced me, anyway. But, I bet you're wondering why she'd planned all this out. To kill you? No, no, your mother just loves you too damned much, and in the end that's what's going to get you killed. Ironic, isn't it. You've always had everything I didn't and now, because of that, you're going to have nothing. Not even your life."

Zabini began to laugh then, as Draco moved backwards, trying to get to the drawer he'd placed his wand in earlier without the other man noticing.

"Oh, but I've forgotten to tell you why she hired us. That was so Harry would come to your rescue and then you two fuck-brains would realise your true love for the other." Zabini laughed again, more hysterically this time. "Oh, Draco, if only you hadn't had such a loving mother. If only you didn't take what should be mine!" His eyes began to blaze with fury as he spoke. "Harry would have been mine, had it not been for you and your stupid meddling mother! Do you know how long I've been planning his capture? Years! Years to plan everything down to the last detail and you...you've stolen something from me once again! Well, not this time, Draco, no fucking way."

Draco looked at him dead in the eye and uttered two words, "Like hell."

Zabini screamed and Draco ripped open the drawer containing his wand just as Zabini yelled 'Accio Draco's wand!' Draco caught it before he could fly into Zabini's hand, falling back into the table, breaking the drawer.

It was then that the door burst open and Harry Potter appeared.

**A/N:** Damn, I made Blaise the bad guy...AGAIN.


	3. Part Three

**A/N:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**OI!!!:** Let's try a three shot...? It just got so long!

**On the Catwalk**

**Part Three**

Zabini turned his wand towards the door, shouting a curse as he did, but it was immediately blocked by Harry. Zabini's eyes went wide when he saw who was standing in the doorway. He opened his mouth, and neither Harry nor Draco knew whether or not Zabini was going to speak or hex Harry again, but Draco was taking that chance.

"Sectumsempra!" Zabini screamed as the spell hit him, cutting through the flesh to sever the most vital parts of the body.

"Malfoy!" Harry shouted, rushing over to the fallen man, but somehow Draco was there before him, holding him back. "Malfoy, what the fuck are you doing!? He's going to die!" The blond said nothing, he didn't look at Harry, simply stared at the wall in front of him while Zabini lay in a pool of his own blood. "Draco!" Harry shouted again.

Draco looked down at Harry for a moment, searching for something, something Harry wasn't sure he found before turning and stopping the spell from doing anymore damage.  
Harry kneeled next the boy and made sure he was still living; he then turned to the blank Draco and said, "I have to take him in...I'll tell them I did this, so you can stay here. There's no danger any longer."

Draco said nothing for a long while, simply staring at Zabini and Harry hunched over him. Suddenly he kneeled down next to Zabini and lifted his torso up. "What are you doing?" Harry asked suspiciously, and was even more so when Draco still kept silent. And then his wand was in Zabini's face and he had cast what seemed to be a very complicated memory charm.

"What the fuck, Malfoy!" Harry shouted.

"I have to go speak with my mother. We thank you for your services and appreciate you working with us," Draco's tone when he spoke these words was so formal and final that Harry almost called out to him. But what would he say? He couldn't find the voice, nor the courage so he simply kneeled there, watching Draco stand and move towards the door. "I would appreciate if you wouldn't mention what I just did to your superiors. They should find everything in order, and trust me, you'll thank me later for it. If you need me for anything, you know where you can reach me." Harry only looked on as Draco walked out the door.

That week was a flurry of movement across the ministry. New security measures were being taken to ensure that something like what Zabini and Hermione had down would never happen again. Harry kept quiet about the incident, trying to stay away from it as much as possible. He had to say, however, that Draco had done a great job of altering Zabini's memories. Honestly, Harry had been planning on doing the same thing, but he doubted that he could have even come close to what Draco was capable of. Zabini sensed nothing off about his memories, and neither did the ministry, though, Harry desperately wanted to know the fact from fiction in the last bit of the story. Such as the reason Zabini wanted Draco out of the picture.

He supposed the only way he'd ever know would be to ask Draco himself, but he doubted that he would ever see him again. Because really, it wasn't like he was going to seek him out and it wasn't going to work the other way, either. No, they would go about their separate ways, pretending this incident never existed, after all, Draco didn't know that Harry knew the truth. He never did get to speak with Narcissa about the matter, but he assumed Zabini told him most of the story.

He hadn't heard from Hermione since that day, either, but that was to be expected. He supposed she was letting him cool off, and with good reason. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to speak with her at the moment, anyway. No, he was certain he didn't.

"Hey, you okay, mate?" Ron asked suddenly, from across their desks.

"What?" Harry snapped his attention to Ron who was looking at him oddly. "Oh, yeah, fine. Why?"

"You've been a bit off since the Malfoy case, is all. Worried about someone being able pull something like this on you?"

"Yeah, just a little worrisome when you think about, you know?" Harry lied. "Think of all the things that could go wrong and such."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "But, it's best not to think about it."

"True."

"Hey." Ron stood. "I'm starving; you want to go get lunch?"

"Yeah, sure." Harry stood as well, stretching. As they left the office and headed out onto the street Harry listened to Ron ramble on about Hermione and his relationship.

"She's just been weird lately. Really quiet an all...like she's thinking really hard or sad about something, I really can't tell the difference. And then, the other day she just kept saying, 'I can't believe he's leaving, I just can't believe it.' I asked her who but she just shook her head at me. I don't know if I should be concerned or not, you know?"

"Yeah, I get what you're saying," Harry answered. "But I really wouldn't worry about it; it's probably some old Hogwarts professor or something like that. You know she loves you Ron."

"And that's another thing. She keeps asking me all this weird questions about love!" Ron said as the entered their favourite pub for lunch. They headed for their usual table. "Like, 'If you knew two people loved each other, wouldn't you try to help them?' and 'Would you let someone run away from the person they love?'"

Harry sat down and schooled his features to stay blank and his voice steady. "She's to altruistic for her own good."

"That's what I said," Ron told him. "Well, actually I told her that you can't make two people fall in love. That's something they have to do on their own, and a relationship is something they have to decide for themselves." Silently, Harry thanked Ron for just being Ron and having enough common sense to know when not to stick his nose where it wasn't wanted. "And then she says, 'But what if they're both stubborn arses and won't admit it to one another?' and I said 'Well, then they'd be Harry and Malfoy.'"

"What!?" Harry's face changed instantly into one of anger as he glared at his friend.

"No, not like that, mate, no. I just mean that it would be _like _the two of you, you're both stubborn arses. In which case, if you two were to be live love, which is not going to happen, Malfoy would end up running away and you would end up never pursuing it and eventually finding someone else. Geez, she looked at me like that when I said that too. Anyway, finally I told her 'Look, love is scary and we all run from it. But, if we're truly in love, suddenly we'll run after it. If these two people are in love, eventually they'll ending up colliding head first.'"

"Ron, you are so poetic," Harry laughed.

"Oh, I do try," Ron answered, and straightened. "Oh, how do I love thee, dear Harry, let me count the ways."

"Ron, you're the sunshine on my cloudy day, the flame in my candle," Harry told him stiffly.

"Harry, you're my upgrade to first class on those aerofanes, you're a chocolate frog with two heads."

They continued to declare their mock love for one another throughout lunch, but all the while Harry could stop thinking about what Ron had said earlier that day.

When Harry arrived home that evening he was very surprised to find Hermione sitting on his couch. "Hello, Hermione," he said rather tersely, heading into the kitchen to put on a pot of tea.

"Harry," she began, following him. "Listen, I know you're upset at me, and I'm really sorry about what I did, truly, but I need to know something." She took a deep breath when he showed no signs of protest. "Are you or are you not in love with Draco Malfoy?"

"Hermione, I don't think you have any right to ask me that after what you've done."

"Yes, I know, but Harry, I need to know," Hermione begged.

"Why?" Harry asked, glaring at her. "So you can feel better about what you did to me? To know you weren't completely shooting in the dark? To have the satisfaction that, once again, you were right? Well, yes, Hermione I am in love with him. I wish, I could say that I wasn't but I can't and I wish I could tell myself why I am, but I can't. I just am, and I wish I could figure out how not be, or even how this happened but I can't. So, if you feel the need to meddle in my love life, now would be a great time to step in and figure this shit out for me."

Hermione looked at him for a moment. "I really am sorry, Harry, I mean it. I just wanted you to be happy."

"I know Hermione," he sighed. "Which is why I can forgive you for this. I'm still mad at you, but I forgive you."

"Thank you," she said ad stepped forward to give him a hug. He returned it, smiling a bit. When they pulled apart she looked towards the door and said. "Harry, I have to go now, but I just wanted to let you know before you found out some other way. Draco is leaving for Italy soon. He's moving to Milan to become a full time model, Mrs. Malfoy told me earlier."

Harry was speechless. It was like his brain had shut down. Italy? A full time model? Harry didn't know much about modelling, but he knew it was demanding schedule.

"Oh?" he managed to get out. "That's nice, I'm happy for him, doing something he loves."

"Yeah," Hermione answered. "Harry, you might want to re-think that Draco doesn't love you thing...there's still time." And without another word, she left, leaving Harry standing in the kitchen, the makings of tea sitting untouched on his counter. Slowly, he exited the kitchen and turned to head to his bedroom when something white on the floor caught his eye.

He walked over to the square of white and realised it was an envelope. He hadn't remembered getting any post as of late, and couldn't imagine himself just throwing a letter to the ground for later. Although, now that he thought about it, he's often dropped thing when something else caught his attention. He stooped and picked up the envelope. Turning it to the front his found it blank.

He blinked, and suddenly the memory came rushing back.

Draco. Draco had sent this, what was it? How long had it been? About a week and a half ago? He felt the paper inside and realised that this was not a picture, not like the first one. Harry knew he shouldn't open it, that whatever this envelope contained would only crush him.

And yet, he found himself tearing at the seal anyway, eyes frantically searching the paper, grazing over Draco's neat penmanship.

Harry's heart almost stopped when he read the letter. In fact, he had to read it a second time to make sure he wasn't seeing things. And even then, he read it out loud a third time to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

This couldn't be...could it? No, it wasn't possible that Draco had felt this way, for so long. This had to be part of the joke, something that Harry had just missed in his haste.

"_You might want to re-think that Draco doesn't love you thing."_

"_If we're truly in love, suddenly we'll run after it. If these two people are in love, eventually they'll ending up colliding head first."_

"_There's still time."_

"_Just what is it that's stopping you?"_

Yes, just what was it that was stopping him? Harry didn't know if he should trust the words in this letter, but he had decided that he was tired of playing with Draco. He was going to get some answers, and he was going to get them now.

He dropped the letter to the floor once more and walked over to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo powder as he went. He called out the address and disappeared in a whirl of green flames.

Harry stepped out of the fireplace and was surprised to find Mrs. Malfoy standing there. "Er, hello, Mrs. Malfoy, how are you?"

"I'm quite alright, Mr. Potter, and yourself?" She answered, slightly amused.

"Erm, fine, fine, thank you. I'm sorry to drop by un-announced but I really needed to speak to Draco about something," Harry said, albeit a bit sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but Draco isn't here right now. He's either in his London flat, or in Italy. He's moving there to focus on his modelling," Mrs. Malfoy informed it.

Harry's face scrunched up. "He has a London flat?"

"Yes," Narcissa smiled. "He says he doesn't like just living off our money, so he bought a place out in London with his own. Would you like the address, I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I gave it to you."

"Oh, yes please, very much so," Harry answered. She flicked her hand and a piece of paper appeared in the air before it. She took it and handed it to Harry. "Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. It was nice to see you, but I best be on my way now."

"It's no trouble at all, Mr. Potter," she told him as he stepped back into the fireplace. "And Mr. Potter?"

"Yes?" Harry asked, his hand already posed for throwing the powder down.

"Thank you."

Harry smiled and disappeared.

When Harry stepped out of the fireplace he found a shocked looking, jean and t-shirt clad Draco staring at him, hand still in mid air from levitating a lamp into a box.

"Potter?" He set the lamp down and returned his arm to his side. "What are you doing here? How did you get here?"

"I went to the Manor to look for you, but you weren't there. I wasn't aware that you had your own flat," Harry answered, moving further into the room. "Your mother gave the address."

"I see," Draco answered his face turning hard. "Now, is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, actually," Harry answered walking over to him. He glared up at the blond for a moment before reeling his hand back and slapping him across the face.

"What the fuck, Potter!?" Draco yelled, bringing his hand up to soothe his abused face.

"Did you mean it?" Harry asked instead.

"Did I mean what? What the hell is this about, coming into my house and slapping me without warning?" Draco shouted.

"What you wrote in the letter!" Harry yelled back. "Did you mean it or were you just playing me? Trying to get me to fall for you so you could say that you conquered Harry Potter? Well, guess what Malfoy, you win! Congratulations, I love you!" Harry panted, glaring up at the blond.

"You...what?" Draco's mouth fell open as he stared at Harry.

"I love you," Harry said more quietly this time, his gaze never wavering from Draco's wide grey eyes. "So, I want to know, did you mean it?"

"Potter...Harry." And suddenly Draco's lips were on his and it was quite possibly the best kiss Harry had ever experienced, even comparing to previous Draco kisses. Somehow, this...this seemed so much more real and surreal at the same time it made Harry's head spin.

When they pulled apart Harry noticed that somehow his hands had ended up in Draco's hair, while there was a pair of arms wrapped around his waist.

"I meant it," Draco said quietly. "I meant every word of it."

"Good," Harry said and kissed him again, shorter this time.

"I have to ask, though," Draco said. "What took you so long to figure it out?"

Harry laughed and said, "Well, I just read that letter today. As soon as I got it, Shacklebolt told me about your case and then I never read it."

"Oh, right, that," the blond answered.

"What?" Harry asked.

"It's nothing, really." Draco smiled lightly. "Now, where were we?"

"About here I believe," Harry answered, leaning up and attaching his lips to Draco's. He felt the arms tighten around his waist as Draco kissed him harder. A tongue poked at his lips in askance, and permission was immediately granted. Draco's tongue entered, seekingly, at first, exploring avidly, memorising every crevice and niche, his tongue gliding over the smooth white teeth before entangling itself with Harry's own.

Harry let his breath be stolen from him; Draco's kiss was far enough compensation for the possible likelihood of his fainting. At the moment, it was currently doing things to his own tongue he wasn't aware tongues could do, and in that respect wondered what it could do in other places. The mere thought of it hardened him instantly.

Regretfully, Draco pulled away, breathing heavily, and looking into Harry's eyes. "Harry, I have to tell you something," he said seriously. "I'm set to leave for Italy tomorrow. I've been booked for shows almost every night for the next month."

"I know," Harry answered, with a sigh, closing his eyes. He missed Draco's surprised look.

"You did?"

Harry realised his mistake and quickly tried to cover it, "Erm, no, I mean, I didn't know know, I just knew that you were leaving. I mean, anyone could guess with the way these boxes are lying about, and the way you're dressed, that you're obviously set to leave somewhere for good, you know? I mean, I didn't know _where_-"

"Harry," Draco stopped him with an amused smirk. "You're a terrible liar."

"I am not," Harry protested, albeit a bit indignantly. "I'm a brilliant liar, and a brilliant Auror, and a brilliant lover. Now, let's get back to this, shall we?" He motioned to the increased space between their bodies.

"Yes, of course, love," Draco answered, moving into to kiss him, but turning his head at the last moment so his lips were next to Harry's ear. "Just after you tell me who told you," he whispered sensually. "You can't hide from me, Harry." A nip at his ear.

The brunet groaned at the stipulation and pulled away from Draco. He sighed and said, "Hermione."

Draco's face remained passive. "You know then, about what really happened." It wasn't a question, and Harry didn't intend to treat it as one.

"Yes," Harry answered. "They discovered a trace of Zabini's signature at the Ministry. He was the one who placed the curse on Weber. But, I knew Hermione was in on it, too. The food colouring and the fact that I bumped into Zabini when I left Hermione at a cafe a while ago. I hadn't thought anything of it then, but after that signature I made the connection. I confronted her about it and she told me everything."

"Even about what my mother did?"

"Yes." Harry looked at Draco's hardened face; he was putting a mask up. He was going to protect his mother no matter what, even if it meant losing Harry in the process. "Draco, don't you dare look at me like that! I'm not going to tell the ministry! I may be all for justice, but I would never, ever, turn your mother in. She saved my life, you know, and she just wanted you to be happy."

"I know...it's just...I, after everything that's been done to me, it's hard to know who to trust, you know?"

"You can trust _me _Draco," Harry said fiercely.

"I do trust you Harry," Draco answered, then smiled. "My knight in shining armour, come to sweep me off my feet and save me from the dangers of the working world."

Harry laughed and said, "That, and I really didn't want anyone else seeing you in that zebra print thong."

Draco laughed loudly at that, a laugh Harry had never heard before, whole hearted and full of mirth. "Wait here, Harry."

Harry did as he was told and Draco left the room and disappeared down the hall. In the mean time, Harry looked around at the half packed room, noting the few trinkets that still set out on end tables. For leaving tomorrow, Draco sure did take his time packing.

"Harry." The Auror jumped, and turned to look at Draco who was leaning against the doorway of the hall...in a zebra thong.

"You...you," Harry couldn't even find the words to ask Draco, and he wasn't even really sure what he wanted to ask. His eyes flickered back and forth between Draco's amused smirk and his scantily clad lower half.

"Look like sex on long and perfect legs?" Draco filled in. "Yes, I've been told." He pushed of the doorway and walked slowly over to where Harry was standing. "I haven't packed the bedroom up yet, would you like the tour?" With that, Draco turned and made his way back the way he came. Harry could only follow that perfectly formed arse down the hall.

When Harry entered the bedroom he found Draco splayed upon a large four-poster bed, a lazy smirk spread upon his face. "Well, this is my room," he gestured vaguely to the room in question, "That's my wardrobe, closet, and toilet. Later, I'll show you the Jacuzzi tub." His grey eyes twinkled deviously as Harry moved into the room. "And this is my ridiculous large, luxurious, and soft bed."

The brunet stood over the bed, looking down with a smirk of his own. "I think I'd like to try out this bed." And then he pounced, jumping on a squawking Draco and laughing while he did so. They wrestled around on the bed for a bit Harry's clothing shedding as they fought for control between hasty kisses and quick nibbles of whatever patch of skin was available until Harry was just down to his boxers.

Harry sat atop Draco, his legs bent and on either side of the blonds' hips, pinning his arms above his head. "Win," he said with a smile.

"Oh?" Draco began. "And just what makes you think you win?"

"This." Harry answered, and then bucked his hips letting their erections rub through the material of their underwear. Draco let out a little moan at the contact, physically straining not to lift his hips and repeat the motion. "Told ya," he grinned. "And I'd like to collect me winnings now."

"Winnings?" Draco scoffed playfully.

"Yes, my winnings. I'd like to see you model those underwear of yours."

Draco smirked and suddenly pushed Harry off. Harry fell over with an indignant 'Hey!' but was ignored. He watched as Draco reached for his wand.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, settling in too watch his little show.

"You'll see," Draco answered. He waved his wand at the bed and it was moving to face the door way, and then he was widening the door way as he backed out of it. He smirked at Harry, flicked his wand and heavy beat filled the room. He set his wand down and began strutting down the hall, eyes focused on Harry.

Harry didn't know where to look, his eyes flicked from Draco's, to his hips, to his crotch and back up again. If he wasn't mistaken Draco was taking his precious time coming down the hall and swinging his hips a bit more than average. Draco stopped in front of the bed and Harry let his eyes take in all of Draco, wandering from his lips, down the smooth neck, to the toned abs, and to the tiny piece of material covering his member. That's where Harry stopped his gaze unable to move past the zebra clad front.

Slowly, Draco turned, leering at Harry over his shoulder. He began to walk towards the door once more, Harry's eyes tracing every line of that perfectly smooth and shapely arse. He admired the way it rose and fell as Draco walked, unhindered by that pesky fabric that just seemed to be in the way now.

When Draco entered the room again he leaned on the door frame and asked, "Good?"

"Perfect," Harry practically panted. He hated to admit it, but he was so hard already, just from watching Draco. The blond pushed off the door frame and sauntered to the bed, where Harry was now sitting up.

"Is that all?" Draco asked, before pushing Harry down and pinning his arms above his head.

"A bit cocky, aren't you?" Harry asked with a grin, rising up to give a swipe of his tongue over Draco's lips.

"No," Draco answered. "But I'm about to be." And with that he slid down Harry's body, letting his tongue trail down that tanned chest. Harry could barely control his laughter at the corny line the blond had just spouted, but the giggles died in his throat metamorphosing into moans as Draco nipped at his hip bone. "Teach you to laugh at me," he smirked.

"I'll never laugh at you again, Draco, just please don't stop," the brunet groaned, his hands reaching for Draco's head. He ran his fingers through the silky strands of blond as the boy attached to them chuckled.

"So needy." And then there was heat on Harry's erection, and Draco was mouthing him through the thin material of his boxers.

"Oh, God, Draco!" Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this good, or if he ever had for that matter. He pulled at Draco's hair, vainly trying to coax more out of him. Draco let his member go softly, and began sliding down the boxers, letting the hardened organ out of its confines.

Draco dipped his head to suckle Harry's balls, eliciting the most delicious sounds from those pink lips. Harry could feel him smirking, but was beyond caring at this point. Draco's head moved up, his tongue lapping at the spot where cock and balls met.

Harry nearly came on the spot, and had to force himself to calm down, as hard as it may be.

"Draco, Draco, wait," he pleaded. "I-I don't want to come like this and at the rate you're going..." he let the sentence trail off, unable to finish while his hole was being teased and a hot mouth placing open mouth kisses on his member.

Draco's mouth slipped away from Harry's package, looking up through messy blond bangs he asked, "Do you not want me to continue? You seem to be rather enjoying it."

"Yes, that's the problem!" Harry all but whined, he was now severely regretting his decision to say anything at all. "Draco, please, just take me!"

A look of utter surprised crossed the model's face, not that Harry noticed. "You want me to fuck, then?"

"How many times do I have to say it!?" Harry screamed. "It's simple, Malfoy! But your cock in my arse and move!"

Draco chuckled at Harry's demands. "Whatever you say, Princess," Draco told him.

Harry's eyes, which had previously been fighting a battle between opened and closed snapped to Draco's face in rapt attention. "Don't you ever call me that again."

"Why not?" Draco asked as he traced Harry's mouth with a finger before parting the lips for Harry to wet. When he spoke again it was slow and soft. "You're beautiful, you at one point live in a tower, you're in constant need to rescuing, though you're under the impression that's not so, you get everything you want and," Draco paused as he removed his fingers, finding them wet enough. He moved so his lips hovered over Harry's and his fingers poised over his entrance.

"And?" Harry demanded.

"And you get the handsome Prince Charming," Draco smiled and Harry laughed. Draco took the time to let his tongue enter Harry's mouth just as his index did the tight bud.

Harry groaned into Draco's mouth as the finger penetrated him. He tried to focus on Draco's kiss, which was wreaking the best kind of havoc on his mouth when suddenly another finger was added to the mix. Harry wrenched his mouth away from Draco's and let out a scream.

"Sorry, love," Draco soothed. "It'll get better, I promise."

"Like hell!" Harry's arse was on fire, and he was fairly certain he was bleed and things that were ripped should not be ripped! When he had agreed to this whole thing, gayness and sex and Draco, he was not informed of just how much pain came along with that.

"Shhh, Harry," Draco cooed. "I promise, it'll get better, so just hang in there, all right?" Draco kissed him again and curled his fingers inside Harry, searching for that spot that would drive him crazy and forget about the pain. When Harry ripped his mouth a way and screamed once again he knew he'd found it.

"Do that again," Harry demanded, panting.

"Be patient, will you Harry?" the blond asked, as he began scissoring.

Harry moaned once more, throwing his arms around Draco's neck he panted into his ear, "Please, I can't take much more of this."

"I haven't prepared you nearly enough," Draco protested, though he continued to do just that.

"Please," Harry whispered.

Draco rolled his eyes, disentangling himself from Harry's arms to crawl over to his bedside table and grab something out of the drawer. "Don't you dare complain how much it hurts then."

Suddenly, Harry looked down noticing Draco's package in all its glory for the first time. "Oh...Oh my God..." he stammered. "You're going to put all _that _in the there?"

Draco smirked, "Yes, and you asked for it." He uncapped the bottle of lube he had procured and spread at bit on Harry's entrance, and then a generous amount on his own aching sex. "Alright, Harry, it'll be easiest if you get on your knees." With that he grabbed the man by the hips and flipped him over, positioning his arse in the optimal position.

Harry felt a blush cover his entire body at his erotic pose, arse in the air and cheeks spread before Draco. "Don't you just know how to make a guy feel comfortable," Harry mumbled.

"You're running the moment, Harry," Draco told him, leaning over to place a kiss on the now red neck. "Are you ready?" he whispered. Harry only nodded, his eyes shut tight in anticipation and fear.

Draco entered slowly, letting Harry adjust to each inch before adding another. Harry groaned at each added length, weather from pain or pleasure, he wasn't even sure. If there was one thing he knew, though, it was that he liked the sensation of being filled. When Draco had himself fully sheathed he told Harry to move when he was ready.

Harry was sweating with the effort not to call out in his twisted pleasure laced pain (mostly pain). His breath came in short pants and he wasn't sure he ever wanted to move, the sensation of Draco inside of him, his balls pressed against him was enough.

And then he shifted his weight, finding that the sensation of a dick moving inside of him wasn't entirely unpleasant. He shifted forward slowly, found that it didn't hurt nearly as much as previous and then shifted back down. Harry began a rhythm, slow and steady and soon Draco joined in, having judged it safe, if Harry's moans were any indication.

"Draco," Harry whimpered as the blond curled his fingers around slim hips and began thrusting into the smaller body. "Oh, God, Draco." Harry threw his head back as the speed increased, his eye shut tight against the onslaught of sensations currently coursing through his body. He could barely formulate a sentence beyond Draco's name and an assortment of animalistic cries.

Draco reached around to pump Harry as he thrust into him, sensing that the boy was close, given the way his channel was spasming so erratically. It nearly drove Draco to an early end. "Come for me, Harry," Draco whispered in his ear. "You know you want to." He licked the shell of Harry's ear as he rammed deeper within Harry with each thrust of his hips. His tongue trailed down to a shoulder and bit down.

Harry cried out loudly, and suddenly his arms gave out his weight falling forwards only to be minimally supported by his elbows. This only allowed Draco greater access and his pace on increased as he angled his thrusts.

"Draco, I-I-can't-" Harry tried but failed, his voice morphing into moans as Draco's dick hit that magical spot inside of him mercilessly.

"Then don't," Draco panted back, pounding with all his might.

"No, not...not first!" Harry groaned. Even in this situation he couldn't help feeling competitive with Draco and he didn't want to lose. He knew Draco, he knew he was thinking the same thing, and he knew that that was okay...okay for them at least. At the moment, he wasn't going to think of what that could do to their future relationship.

"Potter, you can't be seri-serious," Draco stammered. "You can't even hold yourself up!"

"Errrghhhh," was Harry's response as he thrust back to meet Draco, tightening the ring of muscles that were currently wrapped around Draco's cock.

"Potter!"

"Malfoy!" Draco's teeth were sinking into back, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to break the skin, just as he gave Harry's member a rough tug. "Draco!" Harry shouted as he came, unable to resist the utter pleasure that coursed through his body at the attacks.

He came hard and felt his body arching up, like a cat as Draco continued to fuck him and suddenly, just as the last of Harry's seed left him he felt an explosion of heat in his channel and a shout as Draco came. The blond rode out his orgasm, then slowly came to a stop.

They stayed like that for a moment, catching their breaths before Draco pulled out and flopped down on the bed next to Harry who had collapsed without Draco holding him up.

Harry turned to look at the blond and found him grinning from ear to ear. "Don't you dare say a word, Draco," Harry warned.

"About what?" Draco asked sweetly. "About you coming first?" His comment was met with a swift kick to the shin as Harry rolled on his back. "Ouch!" He glared at the brunet. "Why are you so violent?"

"Why are you such a twat?" Harry returned.

"Very mature, Potter, name calling and all." But even as he said it her rolling to his side and pulling Harry close to him.

Harry stared at him for a moment before he whispered quite seriously, "Now what?"

Draco sighed and looked away for a moment before replying. "Now, we sleep. Later, Harry, later." Harry did as he was told.

Harry sat at his desk, face hard as he went through the paper work for his latest case involving a mother who would do _anything _for her daughter to succeed. Unfortunately, that included people she felt were her rivals. It was a twisted case and he was glad to be down with it.

"All right there, mate?" Ron asked as he walked into their office a cup of tea in hand.

"Yeah, just tired and all," Harry answered.

"Yeah, I guess you would be with that case," Ron answered. They were often assigned to lone cases in addition to partner cases. Ron was grateful he this was one of those times. "All wrapped up now though, and hey, it's Friday."

"That it is Ron," Harry answered, eyes still on his report. "What are you and Mione doing tonight, anything special?"

"No, she's all excited that _Malfoy _is going to be doing a show in town tonight. She dragging Ginny with her," Ron spoke bitterly, staring out the window, his attention only returning to Harry when his head snapped up.

"What?" he asked stupidly.

"Oh, mate, I thought you knew that Hermione and Ginny were speaking again. I know you still don't-"

Harry cut him off quickly, "No, no, where are they going?"

"To see Malfoy, ugh. Why are they so obsessed with that prick?" Ron rolled his eyes.

"I've got to go," Harry said, standing.

"What? We still have an hour and a half before quitting time. What's wrong?" Ron asked, suddenly worried.

"Nothing, Ron, I just have to go, I Floo you later, or something!" Harry called over his shoulder as he raced down the hall towards the lifts.

Ron could only watch his friend run, wondering why he looked as though he were about to cry.

Harry entered him flat quietly. He shed his cloak, auror robes and shoes at the door, not bothering to put them in the closet. He walked slowly into the kitchen, intending to make a cup a tea to ease his nerves.

He smiled when he saw his kitchen and moved across the tiled floor. He stood in front of the counter and set his hands on it.

"Harry!" Draco turned around to look down at the dark haired auror who'd trapped him against the counter. "What are you doing home so early!?"

"And what are you doing in my house? Rummaging through my cupboards, shirtless for that matter," Harry answered, leaning into the taller blond.

"I was making tea and I'm too sexy for my shirt," Draco answered haughtily.

Harry smiled. "And just when were you going to tell me you were going to be in London for the weekend?"

Draco laughed, leaned down and kissed Harry on the mouth. They lingered for a moment and Draco whispered, "Harry, I'll be in London for the weekend."

"Are you staying here then?" Harry murmured back, making a vague gesture his flat.

"Of course."

"Good." With that Harry threw his arms around Draco's neck and kissed him deeply.

"Anything for you, Princess," Draco murmured as they broke apart. "Owww!" Draco clutched his stomach as Harry walked out of the room and down the hall towards the bedroom.

"When you're done with that tea bring me in a cup!"

**A/N: **Cheesy ending! God, that sex took forever to write! Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing! Now, what's next for me!?


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